


I'll let you shatter me with your pain.

by Lonely_Broccoli



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji-centric, Akaashi is an empath, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Bisexual Akaashi Keiji, Bisexual Male Character, Bullying, Coming Out, Crying, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Empath, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Financial Issues, Fluff and Angst, Gay Bashing, Hiding Feelings, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Injury, Lies, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mutual Pining, Pain, Physical Abuse, Slow Burn, Suffering, Training Camp, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Verbal Abuse, Vomiting, domestic abuse, empath au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 19:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13724769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonely_Broccoli/pseuds/Lonely_Broccoli
Summary: Most of the pain that Akaashi has experienced does not belong to him. Knowing someone's pain just by touching them is a gift that he chooses to make benevolent use of, a power that he chooses to hide away.It's his silent way of helping others, until he's forced to accept that not every pain is something he can handle on his own.Especially when it belongs to Bokuto.





	1. Catching my Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey hi~! This fic exists because a tumblr post of mine gained some attention and I realised I wasn't alone when I wanted to make Bokuto suffer. I hope you guys love some slow burn and suffering, because I sure as hell do! Enjoy and please do come talk to me on my tumblr, @hai-cuties!

Most of the pain Akaashi experiences doesn't belong to him. He has experienced heartbreak, despite never being in love. He has experienced a broken arm, without ever injuring himself. He has experienced flu symptoms, while being in the peak of health.

Akaashi Keiji is an empath.

He sits writing down biology notes, waiting for his classmate in front of him to pass the worksheets packed with scientific jargon and minuscule spaces to write the answers in. He’s never been much of a science person, despite those around him thinking that he’s into all subjects known to mankind. Honestly, he thinks that the real science nerd anyone should be paying attention to is Kuroo.

“Here. God, this shit is such a bore. I am going to die,” Suzuki mutters under his breath his usual complaints as he gives Akaashi the dreaded sheet of paper. During the brief moment that their fingers touch, Akaashi feels dull hunger pains in the pit of his stomach. _That explains why Suzuki seemed irritated all day_ , Akaashi thinks. _He’s hungry, most likely skipped breakfast._

Akaashi’s perception skills have always been very high due to his rare power. Making assumptions about the various pains he experiences when he touches people is a part of his daily life now, inevitably. He never told anyone about his gift. Akaashi prefers to use his power like he usually conducts his business; quickly, quietly and with everything under control.

Once the tedious lessons are finally done and over with, Akaashi heads down to the club room to get changed for practice. He’s in a less-than-contented mood after having to take care of class duty more or less on his own, due to his partner being absent from catching the flu. He should have expected much; the warning signs were there when he touched him the day before. At times like this, Akaashi’s empath power does little to help him.

Nobody else is in the club room except for Akaashi. They’ve all changed into their volleyball jerseys while Akaashi was wiping the blackboard and checking the cleaning equipment. His irritation softens as he pulls his jersey on; the thought of volleyball always manages to lift his spirits up.

“Hey, Akaashi! What’s up? Did you get held back by the teacher?” Konoha asks, his keen eyes squinting as he grins at the second year. Practice had started, but just barely. Akaashi observes Bokuto helping out Suzumeda and Shirofuku with taking out the volleyballs and setting up the nets, which meant that they had probably only stretched, at most.

Akaashi shakes his head, but Komi interjects before he can say anything. “Nah. He’s not Bokuto! He knows how to get shit done. Isn’t that right, Akaashi?” There’s a sharp “Hey!”, from Bokuto a moment later, which Komi only acknowledges with a snort.

“My partner wasn’t in. I had to finish up the classroom duties on my own,” Akaashi explains, making sure that he didn’t sound like he was complaining. It seems like a trivial issue to be annoyed about once he voices it out. He paces over to the wall to start stretching, and joins the others on the court without delay.

As soon as Akaashi picks up a volleyball and beings to practice his serves, Bokuto approaches him with his usual enthusiasm. “Akaashi! Once we’re all done with the usual menu, toss to me! You’ll do it for me, won’t you?”

Akaashi has learned in the year and a half he’s spent with Bokuto that his powers have never been more useful to him. He’s learned more about Bokuto than he had ever intended to when he first met him. He knows what sauce Bokuto likes on his meat, why he detests wooden gates with a passion, and what colour all his stuffed animals are. All the information about Bokuto is filed in a drawer in Akaashi mind, to be used efficiently whenever he sees fit to do so.

It’s easy for Akaashi to focus on his receiving and setting practices, but he can’t help but to glance over at Bokuto, who stares at him with the corner of his lips lifted in anticipation. The captain is probably the most easily excited human Akaashi has ever encountered, with massive ups and downs that the team had dubbed “Bokuto’s emo mode”. Thankfully, Akaashi finds it easy to predict when one of Bokuto’s moods are approaching. After all, he hasn’t been entrusted with taking care of Bokuto for nothing. He’s positive that he knows Bokuto like the back of his hand.

“Akaashi! Come on, I want to spike!” By the time Akaashi finishes the set of practice activities for the day, Bokuto is calling him over with a goofy smile all over his face. The setter obliges with a nod, lifting the net up a small bit to allow himself access to the other side of the court, where Bokuto waits for him not-so-patiently, hopping from one foot to another.

Picking up a volleyball, Akaashi throws it up in the air and shifts to the right, adjusts himself into a comfortable position and tosses it over to Bokuto, who couldn’t look more ready. The ace grinds his teeth together and slams his palm into the volleyball, but Akaashi already notices that it isn’t going to land the way Bokuto wants it to.

Even after being visibly dissatisfied with his spike, Bokuto whips around in determination. One look at his honey eyes, and Akaashi knows that he’s going to ask for more and more until his desire is fulfilled. He doesn’t mind; if he really needs a break, Bokuto will let him take one without complaint. He readies himself and tosses again, higher this time. The ball draws an arch in the air, landing right beside Bokuto who misses his opportunity to get a spike in that feels good against his hand.

“One more, Akaashi!” Bokuto continues relentlessly, even after Sarukui, the last one that had stayed around, leaves them to practice by themselves only. Akaashi feels that there’s something off with the way Bokuto’s expression tightens after each spike, and the way he keeps missing more than usual in the first place. He considers the possibility that Bokuto is feeling sick, or having problems regarding his private life. Bokuto keeps going despite Akaashi’s emo mode predictions. _He really wants to prove himself_ , Akaashi muses. _But why?_

Akaashi has no time to dwell on his thoughts. The ball is already in the air, and he has to make his decisions without waiting around. He’s confident as he sets the ball that his toss is precise enough for Bokuto, who is already in the air, sweat dripping from his face onto the gymnasium floor. Knowing that it will lift Bokuto’s spirits if he manages to finally get a decent spike in, Akaashi watches intently with his hands clasped together.

As Bokuto’s hand slams into the volleyball, a faint smile forms on Akaashi’s lips. It’s apparent from the way the ball hits the ground and Bokuto’s grin that it’s a spike Bokuto is satisfied with. Akaashi’s own heart is thudding, and he can feel it in his mouth. He’s used to the exhaustion from the practices with Bokuto that leave him lightheaded.

The setter lets a soft laugh escape from his mouth, although Bokuto is too ecstatic to notice. Bokuto’s eyes are gleaming, staring down at his reddened palm. His face is scrunched up, beads of sweat trailing down his cheeks. Moments like these remind Akaashi why he cherishes his time at volleyball practice more than anything.

Letting out a distorted version of Akaashi’s name, Bokuto flings himself onto Akaashi in his moment of excitement. This is another thing Akaashi is used to, so much so that he’s learned how not to fall over when the taller captain makes it seem like he wants to tackle him. Akaashi spreads his arms expectantly, allowing Bokuto easier access.

It’s too late when Akaashi realises that the hug he receives from Bokuto doesn’t feel right. As soon as the tips of his fingers touch Bokuto’s sweat-soaked jersey, his shoulder feels like it's smashed through windows. A hot flash travels up his body, and by the time Bokuto’s holding tight, there’s a crushing weight on his chest. Akaashi’s never been in this much pain his whole life.

The physical pain is barely tolerable, but the horrifying amount of mental pain Akaashi’s in forces him to become limp in Bokuto’s arms. A sense of impending doom creeps onto his tightening chest, making him feel like he’s going to die. His breath comes in ragged gasps as he struggles to keep a clear mind. He’s learned to adapt to many situations he’s gotten into because of his power. This is not one of them.

Akaashi’s first impulse is to scream or throw up; neither of those options will ease his suffering, he knows. It’s the only two things he can think of managing. However, before he’s forced to choose between the two, everything goes white in front of his eyes. He’s gratified to finally embrace the release from the pain, to slip into a state that puts a halt to all the unexpected chaos his body is forced to endure.

Soft whispers filled with worry greet Akaashi as soon as he came to. He’s still shaken up from the completely unexpected event, even though he’s not hurting anymore since he’s not touching Bokuto anymore. He wonders if his powers decided to work the opposite way for a moment, until concern sets in. Frankly, the amount of pain he had experienced was worrying. What was Bokuto going through?

“You’re awake, Akaashi! I’m so sorry, I should have let you rest earlier!” Without sparing another second, Bokuto starts to apologise profusely. Akaashi can recognise the genuine concern in him, and guilt strikes him hard. He doesn’t know what to say to his captain, which isn’t supposed to happen. His powers weren’t meant to cause additional turmoil.

With a gentle shake of the head, Akaashi reassures Bokuto that it’s nothing he should be sorry for. “It’s really nothing, I promise. I was just tired,” he answers, his voice shaking. He doesn’t want to hear Bokuto apologise; he doesn’t know what his captain is going through, but it’s clear that he doesn’t need any more stress to add on top of it.

 Bokuto lets out an apprehensive noise, not entirely convinced that it wasn’t his fault that Akaashi had blacked out immediately after practicing with him. “But I forced you to do this! It’s because of me. I _know_ that much, Akaashi!” Bokuto’s voice becomes progressively louder with every word, and he stretches out every syllable of Akaashi’s name. Akaashi feels a stab in his chest at Bokuto’s tone.

“Come on, Bokuto-san. Let’s go home. It’s okay,” Akaashi lifts himself up from the infirmary bed that Bokuto carried him to, slipping back on his indoor shoes and leading the way out of the room. As he paces the halls, Bokuto follows close by, just within touching distance. Akaashi can’t bring himself to touch him again and ensures that he stays a few steps ahead of his captain.

As soon as Akaashi steps outside of the school, everything seems alive again. The evening winds are chilly, more so than the last evening. They bite into Akaashi’s exposed skin and push his messy locks around, but Bokuto marches on with just a t-shirt on. The captain chatters about the latest issue of Shonen Jump and goes on about having to study for his college exams, which Akaashi can barely reply to. He mutters an _it’s okay Bokuto-san_ here and a _yes, I’m sure that was entertaining_ there, while trying his best not to let Bokuto pick up on his listlessness.

“This is where we part ways, Akaashi!” Bokuto announced, snapping Akaashi out of his trance. They had stopped near the housing estate where Akaashi lived, as they usually did when walking home together. A few robins perched on the stone wall, chirping away beside him.

“Don’t collapse tomorrow, Akaashi!”

“I won’t, Bokuto-san. You.. you take care of yourself, okay?”

“Huh? I always do! Look at my body, it’s fit to be worshipped, isn’t it?”

“I meant health-wise. Drink plenty of water and sleep well, if you want to keep that ‘fit-to-be-worshipped’ body of yours in top condition.”

“I know, I know!”

Bokuto crosses his arms, then waves goodbye as Akaashi starts to make his way back home. “See you tomorrow. Rest well, you’ve been practicing hard today.” He returns Bokuto’s gesture, although in a less wild manner. He only notices how wrong everything feels in the pit of his stomach when the energetic captain is out of sight.

No matter how he put it, Akaashi didn’t know Bokuto nearly as much as he thought. His empath powers assisted him in understanding the rowdy spiker, not his problems. It lingers in his mind as he eats his dinner, which he has to force down because of how tasteless it is. He fidgets in his bed, recalling vividly how the pain made him want to end it all. The last time he had touched Bokuto, it hadn’t been painful. Even if it had been, nothing could compare to what he had just endured.

For the first time, Akaashi reconsiders calling his power a gift.


	2. Not who deserves it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Keiji-nii, wake up!”
> 
> No sooner than Akaashi hears his younger brother’s chirpy voice, the bed dips rather violently. His brother leaps up and down on the bed without mercy, as he usually does when he wakes up earlier than anyone else. Akaashi groans, his stomach growling expectantly. He’d eaten less dinner than usual after the incident with Bokuto that he hasn’t yet wrapped his head around fully, which he now deeply regrets.
> 
> “Wake up and go to school! Wake up!” Akaashi rips off his covers with a sigh, knowing that he won’t be getting any more peace with his brother around. A thump sounds, signalling that his brother jumped off the bed. He shuffles over to the wall and turns his light on, before scampering off in fits of giggles.
> 
>  
> 
> Akaashi wants to help Bokuto. The captain doesn't react well to his questioning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, I'm not dead. I'm so sorry for abandoning this for over a month, I had a lot of irl stuff with assignments over the break and me dying of writer's block. Hopefully I can get back into the swing of things soon! And thank you to everyone who's reading this who sent me headcanon asks on Tumblr! To everyone who doesn't know, my Tumblr is @hai-cuties so please do send me a headcanon ask of prompt or just a general message, anything!

“Keiji-nii, wake up!”

No sooner than Akaashi hears his younger brother’s chirpy voice, the bed dips rather violently. His brother leaps up and down on the bed without mercy, as he usually does when he wakes up earlier than anyone else. Akaashi groans, his stomach growling expectantly. He’d eaten less dinner than usual after the incident with Bokuto that he hasn’t yet wrapped his head around fully, which he now deeply regrets.

“Wake up and go to school! Wake up!” Akaashi rips off his covers with a sigh, knowing that he won’t be getting any more peace with his brother around. A thump sounds, signalling that his brother jumped off the bed. He shuffles over to the wall and turns his light on, before scampering off in fits of giggles.

“Sora, don’t be bothering your brother!” Akaashi’s mother reprimands his brother lightly, while he heads downstairs to join his family at the table. His two other siblings, Mari and Kakeru, are already sitting down, inhaling their miso soup and rice balls.

Akaashi is still half-asleep when he eats his breakfast, considering that he’s had barely enough sleep to function throughout the day. He hasn’t been able to get Bokuto out of his head, and the heavy, torturous pain wasn’t a sensation that could have been forgotten overnight.

He leaves his home with uneasiness sitting on his throat, but that isn’t going to get in the way of him finding out what was causing Bokuto’s pain. There is hardly enough evidence to pinpoint the exact reason or trigger for it, and unluckily for Akaashi, he would have to touch Bokuto again for the sake of helping him out. As much as Akaashi wants to ease his pain, he’s reluctant to put himself through what made him faint less than a day ago.

 _No, this isn’t a choice I should dwell on_ , he concludes. No matter how many times Akaashi touches Bokuto and shares his pain, it will never be the same. All it takes for it to stop hurting Akaashi is if he pulls away from Bokuto, and the discomfort would be over in an instant. He knows he’s going to suck it up for the sake of his captain.

“Is Bokuto-san not here?” The words slip out of Akaashi’s mouth as soon as he scans the noticeably Bokuto-less gymnasium during morning practice. Confused glances meet him, and he realises that everyone else is expecting Bokuto to be with him. Even though he knows he’s almost like Bokuto’s guardian, Akaashi doesn’t know his whereabouts.

With a soft, defeated sigh on his lips, Akaashi heads down to the nets to practice before he can waste any more of his morning. He sets to Washio, Konoha and Sarukui, and although he hears nobody talk about Bokuto, there’s a shared look among his teammates that speaks for itself. Akaashi’s aware that the most disappointed person in the gymnasium is himself.

Morning practice ends without Bokuto turning up at all. Akaashi heads to class concerned, debating on whether he should visit Bokuto’s house if he doesn’t show up for evening practice. As far as he knows, Bokuto’s been sick or injured enough to skip practice exactly three times, including his time as a middle school student. And on all of those occasions, he’s had to be physically dragged away from the court.

Akaashi isn’t used to Bokuto’s behaviours making no sense. He doesn’t like it.

“Who is this?!”

Just as lunch break starts, Akaashi heads down to the canteen, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice. Two palms press against his eyes, obstructing his vision without warning. At the same time, an excruciating pain that Akaashi hasn’t been prepared for erupts in his shoulder, spreading down his arm and around his body.

“Bokuto-san, good afternoon.” Akaashi’s voice is shaky as he involuntarily staggers back, away from Bokuto. The captain laughs heartily at Akaashi’s response, and Akaashi momentarily doubts his powers. He swerves to avoid a playful slap on the back, fear outweighing his guilt.

To Akaashi’s relief, Bokuto isn’t offended. If he is, he’s good at hiding it. “Hey, let’s go eat! The yakisoba bread’s going to be sold out if we don’t buy them in time!” Before Akaashi can get a word in, Bokuto grabs him firmly by the hand and yanks him over to the shop. Akaashi holds back a grimace from the stabbing in his shoulder, exhaling deeply in an attempt to calm the dread in his chest.

Bokuto snatches one yakisoba bread for each of them, slamming down the money on the counter and heading outside to their usual eating spot. By the time they get there, Bokuto’s yakisoba bread is already mostly eaten, and Akaashi can sense Bokuto’s eager gaze falling onto his own lunch.

“Bokuto-san.”

“Hmm?”

“You can have some of my bread. I brought my own bento box today, too.”

Akaashi holds out his yakisoba bread to Bokuto, who gladly accepts the offer and bends down to bite a chunk off it. “Thanks, Akaashi! Hey, did you watch the new season of-“

“I need to ask you a few questions, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi cuts him off, and the look that crosses Bokuto’s face confirms that he knows Akaashi’s caught onto something. “First off, what happened this morning? You never miss morning practice. Why.. today?”

Bokuto opens his mouth to answer, but it takes him about five seconds before he says anything. “I slept in, and I didn’t arrive in time.” It’s painfully obvious to the both of them that Bokuto made that excuse up on the spot. Akaashi knows Bokuto won’t open up that easily, and moves onto his next question.

He gestures towards Bokuto’s shoulder, remembering clearly how the pain had knocked him out unconscious. If there was any reason Bokuto slept in, it was most likely from his damaged shoulder keeping him awake. “You were practicing very hard yesterday. Does your shoulder feel fine?”

Akaashi reluctantly extends a hand out to touch Bokuto’s shoulder, bracing himself for the pain. Bokuto flinches away before he can do that, holding a hand over his shoulder protectively. That’s all the confirmation Akaashi needs from him. “I’m fine, Akaashi! Don’t worry about me,” he grins, his expression is visibly strained. Once Akaashi casts a “You’re-not-fooling-me” glance, Bokuto finally gives in.

“I- I’m sorry, Akaashi! My shoulder’s been feeling weird since yesterday afternoon, and I didn’t want to skip practice, but I couldn’t sleep, and-!” Bokuto starts rambling with panicked tears in his eyes, and Akaashi’s heart breaks as he sees his Ace crumble right in front of him.

Bokuto’s breathing starts to hitch, and Akaashi’s concern about the captain increases tenfold. He had never seen him so scared and small, and it doesn’t look right at all. “Bokuto-san, you’re going to be okay. Breathe-“ Akaashi moves towards Bokuto in an attempt to help him through something he had clearly never experienced before, which only agitates him further.

“No,” Bokuto shakes his head, scuttling back further. “Akaashi, please, leave. I don’t want you to see me like this. Please,” he sinks down to the ground, pressing his face against his kneecaps. Akaashi knows that he can’t leave him to deal with it on his own, and so he steps over to him, taking care to make his movements gentle.

“It’s all going to get better. I promise,” Akaashi whispers, refraining from touching Bokuto. It frustrates him to witness Bokuto suffering on his own, trying to keep his tears from spilling. He was meant to be his best friend, someone that he could trust sharing his problems with.

After what seemingly feels like hours, Bokuto’s able to regain some of his calm. Akaashi isn’t sure how much time passed exactly. Had the lunch bell already gone? At this point, he doesn’t care if he’s late for class. What’s important is that he stuck with Bokuto, although he isn’t sure if he made him feel better.

Bokuto collapses into Akaashi, who almost staggers into the ground with him from the sudden feeling of exhaustion. “I’m sorry, Akaashi.” He mutters, looking around and realising that everybody else had already left for class. “We’re gonna both be late for class because of me,”

“Don’t blame yourself. What happened wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t something you wanted to happen,” Akaashi tells him firmly, taking Bokuto’s hand into his own. Bokuto doesn't flinch away this time, and Akaashi guides him back into the school. “Do you want to go to the nurse’s office?” He whispers, knowing that Bokuto’s probably never had an anxiety attack in his life.

Bokuto shakes his head defiantly. “I’m fine, Akaashi.” Although Akaashi wasn’t convinced, he parts ways with his captain reluctantly. Once he strolls down the second year hall while preparing himself for a lecture, he can’t get the exhausted, terrified feeling that Bokuto had experienced out of his head. The sweet, kind-hearted Bokuto is the last person that deserves to be put through pain.

Thinking about it feels like a stab to Akaashi’s chest, which seems uncomfortably hollow. He hates it all, hates how he could barely help Bokuto, or know what had happened to him. Hates how he can imagine Bokuto getting an earful for being late, because everyone’s going to assume that he was stupid enough to not hear the bell.

Hates how everyone assumes Bokuto’s only emotion is happiness, himself included.

If he wasn’t an empath, as much as he hates to admit, he would have never noticed that something was wrong with Bokuto. His throat becomes constricted, and the tears soon follow. Instead of heading to class like he’s supposed to, Akaashi ends up locking himself in a bathroom stall, choking out angry tears into his sleeve. He can’t be bothered to care if someone does end up finding him in his pathetic state.

“Sorry I’m late.” Akaashi’s already missed an entire class by the time he comes out of the bathroom, and all eyes turn to him in disbelief. They say nothing once they realise how puffy Akaashi’s eyes are, and the tear streaks that Akaashi hadn’t bothered to wipe. He slumps down at his desk, noticing how out of it he is.

Several of Akaashi’s classmates run up to him after the lesson ends, constantly making sure that nothing is bothering him. His teacher calls him back to assure him that he’s always welcome to talk about his problems. Akaashi brushes everyone off with mild annoyance, although he knows that they’re trying to help. He’s not the one who should be fussed over.

When practice rolls around, Akaashi doesn’t want to see Bokuto arrived before him, changing his clothes. As much as Bokuto’s body is worth looking at, he wants to physically drag Bokuto back to his house to get the rest he desperately needs. Still, there’s one thing that Akaashi notices. He’s seen Bokuto walk around almost naked in the club room multiple times, and yet he’s in the corner, as if he has something to hide.

Akaashi’s eyes widens in horror once he turns to take a peek at Bokuto. _His back is covered in bruises that weren’t there before._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments fuel my soul and I'll love you forever if you leave one.


	3. A Family Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Practice goes on without anyone asking Bokuto what the bruises were doing on his back. Nobody knows that Bokuto had gone through an anxiety attack just hours earlier, shivering and hyperventilating in the summer heat. Only Akaashi witnessed it all, Bokuto’s most vulnerable state.
> 
> Akaashi's family makes an appearance, and Bokuto gets interrogated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hi it's me, I finished summer exams and now I'm leaping with joy. I churned out 3.7K words please give me love. 
> 
> OH. I NEED TO PUT WARNINGS HERE JUST IN CASE. 
> 
> -Mention of family stuff (really slightly!)  
> -Vomiting  
> -Short homophobic moment  
> -Injuries and stuff

Practice goes on without anyone asking Bokuto what the bruises were doing on his back. Nobody knows that Bokuto had gone through an anxiety attack just hours earlier, shivering and hyperventilating in the summer heat. Only Akaashi witnessed it all, Bokuto’s most vulnerable state.

“Konoha, go for the left!”

The ball goes up, and Konoha lands it cleanly in an open spot just beside Washio’s foot. He makes a satisfied sound, while Sarukui chants “As expected from the Jack-of-all-trades!” Akaashi’s head isn’t completely in the game, but he takes care not to get nailed in the head with a volleyball.

“Shut up, Saru!”

Konoha grumbles under his breath, while Bokuto casts longing glances at Akaashi. _He wants a toss_ , Akaashi knows. But whether he’ll give it to him is an entirely different story. Akaashi hesitates about letting the ace spike at all. Bokuto could kick up a fuss if Akaashi refused to toss to him, though. And with no solid explanation from Akaashi, his teammates would side with Bokuto.

Bokuto isn’t even trying to hide his restlessness at this point. His pent-up energy needs releasing, and he’s hopping from one foot to another. Reluctantly, Akaashi decides to let Bokuto have what he wants. “Bokuto-san.” His palms connect with the volleyball, and he pinpoints the toss at Bokuto’s ready hand.

“Nice toss, Akaashi!” Bokuto slams the ball down into the opposite court with a satisfying thwack, spiking past the blocks. “Hey hey, I’m the best! Aren’t I?” Bokuto’s moment of silent glory is gone in an instant as he starts to praise himself enthusiastically, clapping the back of the teammate closest to him. “Give me another, Akaashi! I think today’s going to be a good day!”

Akaashi knows not to burst Bokuto’s bubble when he’s excited. He tosses to the upbeat captain once more, and the spike bounces off Onaga’s fingertips. A part of Akaashi feels glad that he never has to block Bokuto’s spike in an official match, because he’s certain that his fingers would be torn off.

After a few more spike and serve practices that count as receive practices for Komi, Bokuto claps his hands to signal the end of practice. Akaashi internally sighs with relief, but stiffens at the thought of questioning his captain’s bruises. But if nobody else saw them or cared to do something, Akaashi’s taking it upon himself to do the painful work.

“Alright, we’re done here. Get plenty of rest, we have to prepare good for the Spring High! Of course, our aim is to win the whole thing! Dismissed!”

Bokuto’s captain speech at the end of practice is short and straightforward, as usual. The members start to pack up their towels and bottles into their enamelled bags, while Bokuto prepares to write up the club journal. Despite Bokuto being an overall forgetful person with writing to match his personality, he’s never skipped writing the club journal. Akaashi stays with him as usual, while the others disappear to buy an ice cream bar one by one.

“And done! Let’s get a gari-gari kun! Or we could share a papico if you’re low on cash!” Bokuto slaps the club journal down into his bag, zipping it up and slinging it onto his shoulder. As much as Akaashi wants to end the day with an ice cream and nothing else, he takes Bokuto’s arm and makes him sit on the floor.

Immediately, Akaashi feels dread pool in his chest. He withdraws his hand quickly out of fear, while Bokuto makes a funny noise at him. “What’s wrong, Akaashi? Aren’t we going home?” He asks, flapping his t-shirt to cool off. His cheeks are still flushed from the hard evening practice, and beads of sweat travel down his toned skin.

With a sigh, Akaashi prepares himself for a less-than-favourable reaction. “I saw the bruises on your back.” He admits truthfully. Bokuto’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t say anything to explain how they got there. “Who did this to you, Bokuto-san?” He presses further, prepared to rip whoever hurt his captain to shreds.

“Nobody,” Bokuto mumbles, scuttling up against the wall as if to subconsciously protect his back. “It’s fine, Akaashi. Nothing’s broken, and they’ll be gone in a few days.” _Has he experienced something like this before?_ Akaashi focuses his gaze on Bokuto, waiting for him to say more.

When Bokuto resumes his silence, Akaashi opens his mouth. “The amount of injuries you have are concerning, and you know it. _Who_ did this to you? Is it someone from this school? A third year?” Akaashi knows he’s being uncharacteristically talkative, but he couldn’t care less. Bokuto shakes his head to all of his questions, swallowing thickly.

“Akaashi, nobody did this to me. I fell down the stairs, by accident. It’s my own fault, so please, don’t ask me about it.” Akaashi isn’t a bit convinced, with Bokuto only bringing up that fact after the relentless questioning. The captain looks like he’s about to bawl, and it’s a pitiful sight.

A sudden thought strikes Akaashi. “Bokuto-san, is there something happening at home? Something you can’t tell me?” The flicker of surprise in Bokuto’s honey eyes confirms Akaashi that he hit the nail on the head. “You don’t have to say what happened, but I don’t want you getting hurt like this again.”

Bokuto lifts his gaze and gives a slight, hesitant nod. Akaashi knew it somewhere in his heart that Bokuto’s home life wasn’t great, but the realisation still felt like a punch to the gut. “But I did fall down the stairs on my own, trust me. It was _my_ fault.” Akaashi isn’t sure if he can trust anything Bokuto says about his safety, but further question won’t yield fruitful results.

“I understand,” Akaashi’s face is as stiff as it could possibly get. “But if someone ever hurts you in any way, you have to tell me. It’s not something you should shoulder on your own.” He holds out a hand and sticks up his pinky finger. “Can you promise me that?”

Bokuto opens his mouth as if to ask something, but silently wraps his finger around Akaashi’s and gives him the pinky promise. Akaashi wants to cry, from both the emotional stress and knowing that he was making Bokuto feel worse. Akaashi knows Bokuto’s weak to pinky promises, and he feels cruel for using it as an advantage.

“I really can’t keep secrets from you, huh?” Bokuto giggles defeatedly, letting his finger uncurl from Akaashi’s longer one. “Damn, ‘kaashi. You should be a detective. Interrogate suspects, make billions.” He extends his arms in a grand manner, picking up his sports bag and placing it on his left shoulder. “Really, it’s nothing serious. I’m pretty sure it’s all over.”

Akaashi’s laugh sounds forced, and he knows it. “It’s nice that you think I’d be good at interrogating people. However, I don’t need to do it on anyone else at this very moment.” He collects his belongings and folds his uniform neatly, following Bokuto out of the club room.

“So… Do you still want to share an ice cream?” Bokuto suggests, jangling loose change in his pocket. Akaashi glances at the convenience store that the Fukurodani students stop by for bread or ice cream after school, and nods in that direction.

As soon as they enter the store, a cold blast of air blows past their face and exposed legs. Goosebumps form on Akaashi’s neck, but Bokuto remains unfazed as he marches to the ice cream section. “Hey, look! Maybe we should get a pear flavour gari-gari kun. It’s on special offer!” Bokuto picks up two packets of ice cream and waves them about. “I can pay for you if you don’t have enough. Think of it as a senpai’s treat!”

Akaashi shakes his head. “I can pay for myself, Bokuto-san.” He ignores Bokuto blowing a raspberry at him, and pays for his own ice cream bar at the counter. Once he’s done shoving the change into his pocket, he catches up with Bokuto who’s already tearing off the wrapper. “Let’s walk home.”

“Actually… I have to go home early today. Later, Akaashi!” Bokuto finishes his ice cream in three bites, and bolts off in the opposite direction before Akaashi can say anything. Akaashi’s concern only grows when he realises that Bokuto is running towards the place where he injured himself, by accident or not. His ice cream drips onto his hands while he's deep in thought, covering them in sticky, sweet syrup.

“Be safe, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi clenches his hands, unable to do anything besides hope that Bokuto really isn’t being exposed to violence at home. He doesn’t know anything about Bokuto’s family, and it could be anyone who’s living with him. His parents, his grandparents, his siblings, maybe extended family.

He’d first discovered what domestic abuse meant when he was six years old, watching television with his family. All he could think of was how cruel someone could be to hurt their own baby, their own child. The image of his baby sister snoozing in her cot comes back to him, and he remembers how he had promised himself to protect all his younger siblings with his life.

The front door clicks open before he can unlock it. “Welcome home, Keiji! I’ve made you your favourite onigiri, so you can tuck right in!” His mother gives him a warm welcome, and Sora’s footsteps can be heard padding on the hardwood floor. This time, an extra pair of footsteps follow, and Akaashi catches a glimpse of a little girl with glassy, purple accessories in her hair.

“Keiji-nii! I made a friend! Her name Keiko!” Sora lifts his arms up, signalling that he wants to be held. Akaashi smiles at Sora and picks him up with one hand, stroking his hair to make him screech with excitement. “Keiko-chan, my older brother! Isn’t he cool? He can play volleyball, and he can do maths with English in it! And ride a bike without training wheels!” Sora flails about dangerously, and Akaashi has to tighten his grip so that his brother doesn’t go plummeting down.

Keiko stays for dinner, and Sora never stops advertising Akaashi’s “strengths” to his friend. “Hey, come to think of it, our names match.” Keiko points to Akaashi and then to herself shyly. “Keiji and Keiko.” The girl covers her face and giggles, making Akaashi’s heart melt. He isn’t the best at showing it, but he really loves interacting with children.

The next morning, Bokuto is there for morning practice and ready to get through the day, or so it seems at first glance. Akaashi can’t put his finger on what’s happened, but Bokuto’s usual offence style play is nowhere to be seen, and he’s switched from practicing jump serves to float serves. He creeps up to him to ask if he was hurt, but Bokuto shakes his head and starts spiking harder.

Akaashi’s day drags on slowly. His usual upbeat math teacher is on maternity leave, and he has to sit through a lesson about as interesting as counting the amount of bumps on the wall. He can almost feel his brain wandering off to another place, but he forces himself to pay attention and take notes. His head starts to pound from the sheer dullness of it all.

On the way to the shop during lunch break, Akaashi notices a Bokuto who’s noticeably paler than this morning. He approaches the captain uncertainty, unsure whether to give him space or ask what’s bothering him. A sheen of cold sweat drips onto Bokuto’s collar, and he’s rubbing at his chest uncomfortably.

“Hey, what’s up? You don’t look so hot.” Bokuto doesn’t jump at an opportunity to make a corny joke, and it worries Akaashi. He tries to usher Bokuto out of the crowded hallway, and immediately cringes with nausea when his finger brushes against Bokuto’s elbow. “Bokuto-san, please don’t tell me you came to school sick.” He squints at the captain, who shrivels under his stare.

“It’s nothing,” Bokuto retorts, but is all too keen about getting out quickly. “Just… I ate something bad last night and my stomach started really hurting during third period. And-“ Bokuto hiccups weakly, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. Akaashi’s eyes widen at the thought of a possible disaster, and he hurries over to the bathrooms with Bokuto trailing close behind. He checks on him every few moments, to ensure he’s not falling on his knees.

Bokuto is breathing heavily and coughing into his palm by the time they reach a stall, and the other students make a beeline towards the door once they’re aware of the situation. As much as Akaashi wants to collectively shut them up, he’s grateful for what little privacy Bokuto manages to get.

Not too long after, Akaashi hears vomiting coming from the stall and grimaces in sympathy. As much as he wants to help Bokuto, there are some things he’s not good at handling. Throwing up is one of them. A groan turns into a cough, and Akaashi wants to cover his ears. He can still hear Bokuto hacking up a lung, which causes a wave of guilt to wash over him.

“You… okay?” Akaashi peers into the stall cautiously, half of his head sticking out from the door. “Come on, let’s get you home.” He marches in once he notices Bokuto unresponsive and slumped against the wall. Dragging Bokuto out is no easy task, but Akaashi hasn’t been training with weights all these months for nothing. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to be running a fever. “Can you stand?”

Bokuto has to grab both of Akaashi’s shoulders to get himself upright, and Akaashi reels with revulsion creeping in his chest. “It’s fine, Akaashi. I feel a lot better now! I don’t need to go home.” He tries to convince Akaashi desperately, but Akaashi’s glacial stare shuts him down.

“And join practice? No, Bokuto-san. I’m not allowing it,” Akaashi becomes stern, rubbing his temples. “You’re heading home, and getting the rest you need.” When Bokuto shakes his head almost timidly, the pieces connect in Akaashi’s head. “Or… maybe you could stay at my house if you’re more comfortable with that.”

“Yeah, I want to stay at your house.”

Bokuto replies truthfully, and Akaashi digs into his pocket for his phone. With a soft huff of anticipation, he dials his mother’s number and waits for her to pick up. It only takes three rings before she answers with a worried tone. “Keiji, what happened? Are you hurt? Sick? Who do I need to punch in the gut?!” Akaashi and Bokuto share a particular look amongst each other.

“Mom, you can relax. I’m not hurt, and there’s nobody you need to fight.” Akaashi starts off with the most important information, so that his mother would actually continue the phone call. “It’s about Bokuto-san, actually.”

“Oh, that bubbly kiddo? The one with the golden eyes? And the… hair, right?” Akaashi can almost see his mother gesticulating in her own particular way. A faint, high-pitched singing voice can be heard over the phone, and Akaashi recognises it immediately. Sora’s singing along to I Wanna Dance with Somebody. He’d become obsessed with Whitney Houston at the tender age of four.

Akaashi stifles a laugh. “Yeah, him. He’s not feeling good, and his parents aren’t home. I was wondering if we can keep him at our house for a bit.” He explains, ignoring the crash of something glass from the other end of the phone.

His mother makes a short “Hmmm,” noise. “Sure. I’ll pick you both up in just a moment, let me just ring up the school. Honestly, schools these days make me call them for every single little crap!” She goes off on a rant of her own, and Akaashi doesn’t have to worry about her declining his plea anymore.

“I’ll be there at the gate in a couple of minutes, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Oh, wait! Do you have any tests today?”

“No, why?”

“Because I’m hauling you home with your friend, Keiji. Are you planning to leave him with a bunch of people he hardly knows? Missing a few classes isn’t going to kill you, and it’s not like you’re a slacker. Just… be there for him, okay?”

Akaashi can’t argue with his mother. “Got it,” he hangs up and turns to Bokuto again, nodding to let him know that he could stay around for a few hours. Bokuto’s relief becomes apparent immediately, and he knows he’s made the right decision. “It’s okay. You’ve dealt with the worst part.” He runs his fingers through Bokuto’s hair, his parental instincts kicking in. 

Bokuto pulls away unexpectedly when the door clicks open, and a third year stares at them with a disgusted look. “If you’re homos, go do it somewhere else.” Before Akaashi can snap back a sarcastic reply, the door slams shut and he can hear the third year informing the other students not to disturb the “lovely couple”. Akaashi’s ears are burning, and his face flushes. His blood starts running backwards.

“Hey, let’s go. If anything happens, I’ll make sure they can fuck right off.” Bokuto snaps Akaashi out of his trance. He’s ashamed to lose his composure, but quickly follows Bokuto out of the bathroom. As much as he wants to follow Bokuto’s advice, he doesn’t lift up his head until he reaches the school gate.

In retrospect, Akaashi’s glad his mother wants to drag him home. His own stomach is doing flops, and he just wants to go home to his family. He leads Bokuto to the cream-coloured car that his mother’s scratched multiple times. “Keiji and Koutarou-kun, come on in. I’m sure you want out of this place.” Akaashi wishes his mother’s statement didn’t ring so true.

“Thank you for letting me stay at your house, Akaashi-san.” Bokuto using honourifics with Akaashi’s surname sounds foreign to him, and all of a sudden Akaashi’s mind is back in the bathroom. If Bokuto’s reputation became tarnished, it would be all because of him. If Bokuto was banned from club activities… If it ruined his mental health even more…

“We’re here!” Akaashi’s relieved that Bokuto didn’t throw up in his mother’s car, but he hadn’t given it thought until after he was in front of his house. “Keiji, go set up a blanket fort on the couch. But don’t make it look too dazzling, otherwise Sora won’t stop diving into it.” His mother commands, and Keiji doesn’t spare a moment before dumping multiple comforters and blankets on the couch.

He isn’t sure if Sora and Bokuto have much difference between them, when the captain jumps onto the couch a little too enthusiastically. Akaashi chooses not to comment on the obvious weight difference between Sora and a powerhouse volleyball team captain. “Akaashi, how do you even make blankets this fluffy? Isn’t it illegal to make people so comfortable they can’t move?” Bokuto chirps, and Akaashi snorts at his comment.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Bokuto pats the space beside him on the couch, and Akaashi perches next to him once he gets the message. “But are you sure you’re not running a fever?” He teases him this time, slapping Bokuto’s forehead with his palm lightly. Bokuto lets out a “Geh!”, and the couch dips as both pull away from each other.

Unfortunately, Akaashi’s attempts at building a non-Sora-appealing blanket fort were futile. Four-year-olds seemed to be attracted to anything resembling a vague 3-D shape made of blanket. “Koutarou-niichan!” Sora lets out a squeak of glee and starts to clamber onto Bokuto, who bounces him on his knees and lifts him up under his arms.

“Hey, hey, take it easy. Bokuto-san isn’t well, and-“

“Koutarou is sick?” Sora asks, his eyes becoming teary. “Oh no! What do we do? What should we do?” He starts to pace on the spot, and Akaashi recognises the first signs of a crying session. He decides to take action before the guesses become a worst-case scenario.

“Sora, do you remember what mommy always does when you’re sick?” Akaashi asks calmly, placing Sora on the sofa beside himself. When the boy makes a “Hmmmm” noise, Akaashi pokes him in the side to make him giggle. “Do you?”

Sora wriggles away from Akaashi’s grasp and lands smoothly on two feet onto the hardwood floor. “Oh! Lots of hugs and kisses!” When Akaashi signals him to think again, Sora groans with a hand covering his forehead cheekily, mimicking Akaashi. “Warm barley tea?” He guesses again, and Akaashi nods in approval.

“I have a big job for you, Sora. Do you want to know what it is?” A resounding “Yes!” from Sora is enough for Akaashi to continue. “I want you to go into the kitchen and help mommy make some barley tea. Can you do that?” Sora scampers off without another word, glad that he can help out Akaashi’s friend.

From the kitchen, Sora calls out to Akaashi while making the barley tea. “So that means you have to give Koutarou plenty of hugs and kisses! Do you understand?” Akaashi almost chokes on his own breath, and Bokuto is squawking with laughter. He decides not to respond after recalling all that had happened at school.

“You have a great family, Akaashi.” Bokuto stares at the kitchen entrance almost lovingly, as the voices of Sora and his mother natter enthusiastically. “Especially your little brother Sora! He’s just too cute. I mean, I wish I-“ he stops mid-sentence and cuts himself off with a laugh.

Akaashi feels somewhat guilty when Bokuto stops talking, abruptly. “You’re like a part of this family, too. I think Sora would agree if I asked, too.” He assures him, as if it would offer any consolation. He almost wishes Bokuto could live with him, if it would make him smile and ease the pain that Akaashi feels every time their fingers touch.

Bokuto grins widely, the idea satisfying him thoroughly. He twitches and takes Akaashi’s hand into his, not noticing that the setter’s expression changes for a split second. “This might sound weird, but can you do the thing you did in the bathroom again?” He requests shyly, and Akaashi hesitates but places his hands on Bokuto’s head and starts running his fingers through the waxed hair. “I don’t know why, but it’s calming. You’re like… you’re like my personal blanket fort for my head.”

Akaashi doesn’t mind the strange comparison. After all, he feels genuine comfort after touching Bokuto for the first time in days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xeqngisew it's nearly 1am and I'm just so glad this is finally finished. Sorry for the long wait everyone! As always, comments and kudos are so very appreciated! (Talk to me on tumblr @hai-cuties)


	4. Listen, and stay still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An uneasiness lingers in Bokuto’s stomach, even as the nausea decreases considerably with time. Akaashi lets him curl up in a comfortable position on the sofa, helping him sip on the warm barley tea that Sora brought. He asks Bokuto periodically how he’s feeling, and the only response he gets is a relaxed whine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hi, yo! It's me again, with an update featuring Bokuto's side of the story and an unhealthy amount of italics abuse. Enjoy!

An uneasiness lingers in Bokuto’s stomach, even as the nausea decreases considerably with time. Akaashi lets him curl up in a comfortable position on the sofa, helping him sip on the warm barley tea that Sora brought. He asks Bokuto periodically how he’s feeling, and the only response he gets is a relaxed whine.

 _He really is a good caretaker_ , Bokuto thinks with a grin spread across his face. Evening rolls around before long, and it’s safe to assume that volleyball practice without the two there is finished. Bokuto usually has to be tackled to the ground and pinned there by five teammates before he would give up going to practice. Today, however, he can’t bring himself to move from the sofa.

He’s surprised by his laziness and loss of motivation, but the dread of returning home and heading to school the next day weighs him down and keeps him glued to where he is right now. He isn’t ready to leave the warmth beside him that’s soothing his nerves and making everything all right for a few minutes. He isn’t ready to be alone again.

“Bokuto-san, maybe you should go home.” Akaashi glances at the clock, almost as reluctant as Bokuto in regards to him leaving the house. The safe, friendly place that accommodated Bokuto isn’t somewhere that he can stay forever, or somewhere that he deserves to stay. “Do you need a lift? You’ve been sick, after all. Don’t be pushing yourself if you feel like you can’t take it.” He adds, picking up on his unwillingness to go back home.

“I’m good. I’ll walk back home.” Bokuto answers immediately. “Thanks for the hospitality!” He wiggles off the couch, stumbling on his feet as he steadies himself on the ground. “Don’t look so worried, I really am okay!” Bokuto throws up a peace sign, as if to convince Akaashi that he’s telling the truth. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Akaashi!”

Sora follows Bokuto to the genkan, with Akaashi close by to catch him if he falls. His hasty footsteps come to a sudden halt when Bokuto lifts him off his feet, high enough to come face-to-face with a pair of honey eyes. “So high, Koutarou-niichan!” Sora squeals, letting out a series of excited, shrill cries.

“Bye-bye, Akaashi!” Bokuto waves off a hyper Sora nestling in Akaashi’s arms, leaving the Akaashi residence as he shoves his feet into his worn sneakers. A defeated sigh escapes him once he sets foot on the road, disappearing into the humid air hanging about the place. He can’t help the jealousy welling up in his chest as Sora’s giggly face crosses his mind.

He can’t help but to feel jealous of all the students in his year that don’t have to open their front door to hear screaming and something shattering, which is precisely what he just did. He’s jealous of the students that come home to smiling faces, warm dinners.

His escapist fantasy ends abruptly with the crash of something made of glass. _They’re at it again,_ he shakes his head ruefully. He hesitates before clicking the door open and stepping into the house, silencing himself and making his presence scarce. He’s gotten good at that, but not necessarily good enough.

“I’m home.” Bokuto’s voice comes as barely above a whisper. It doesn’t matter, because he won’t be listened to anyway. He could say that there was a man in his fifties asking him out, and he would get the same response: an irritated sigh. Nothing out of the ordinary. His mother’s attention snaps away from him in an instant when his father knocks down a chair.

 _They’re arguing_ _about_ _something_ _petty_ _again_ , Bokuto can tell. An unimportant matter would quickly escalate into a big argument, and finally, they would change the subject to him. He concludes after a moment of listening that they’re in stage two.

Bokuto creeps up the stairs, knowing not to pull the same trick within the space of a few days. His attempts to stop the violent arguments become more extreme each day, and he doesn’t even know if they’re working in his favour. After all, if they worked, he wouldn’t be coming up with new ways to distract his parents each day.

Maybe he shouldn’t go out of his way to break up the fights. It’s a thought that commonly comes to him, but he can’t convince himself to leave his parents angry at each other. The kitchen and living room is ruined enough as it is, and it’s a matter of time before the damage will spread upstairs.

Concern lodges itself into Bokuto’s chest. Concern that whispers to him, reminding him that one might kill the other at some point if they snapped hard enough. The fighting had started when he entered his second year of high school. He can’t recall the exact cause, apart from the fact that it involved bills. Money isn’t the root cause of everything, but Bokuto knows it’s an issue.

“You never listen to me, ever! Soon we’ll be living in a shack, and-“

 _Crash_.

“All you do is nag, nag, nag. Do you ever shut up?!”

 _Slam_.

Bokuto throws himself onto his bed, hand reaching for his headphones sitting beside the pillow. He needs them again, the black and red device that shields his ears from what he doesn’t want to hear. The noise-cancelling feature reduces the yelling to background noise, along with the occasional sound of something collapsing.

“Koutarou is going to end up just like you, _useless_ -“

 _Stage three_ , Bokuto stares at his hand with three fingers spread out. Headphones on, muffled yelling, a lump in his throat. It chokes him, cutting off his air supply. Revulsion pools in his stomach.

His uneven breathing is barely recognisable, even to him. He can only feel his chest rising and falling at a rapid speed, which confirms his panicked state. He’s heard by nobody, not even himself. And it doesn’t bother him. Even if he were to be heard, he wouldn’t get any favourable reaction.

A faint buzz reaches Bokuto’s ear, cancelled out by the sound of an object getting knocked over. Hopefully it isn’t the fridge, like last time. It’s pretty beat up already, and he can tell it can’t take much more damage. If the fridge breaks, he has another concern on his hands: food.

Bokuto closes his eyes, as if to shut out the negativity piling onto him. As much as he wants to stay in his comfortable position on the bed, his homework sits in his bag, reminding him of the trouble he’ll be in if he fails to hand it up.

Bokuto gives up his search for sanctuary, instead sliding off the bed to grab his bag. He digs for his homework sitting under his schoolbooks, crinkled and speckled with dust. His phone in the side pocket lets out a lively ding and vibrates, attracting his attention. Four notifications lined up on his lock screen, two from the same person.

_5:03 Konoha Gakure_

**Heard you went home. Get your ass back to school tomorrow, we need you and Akaashi for practice. You better recover from whatever you have, Bokuto!**

It’s precisely what Konoha would say to him if he’s there by his side, and Bokuto exhales happily. Beneath the tired grins and snarky attitude, Konoha doesn’t ever forget to look out for his teammates. He’s not as observant as Akaashi or Washio, but Bokuto has to give him credit for trying.

_6:43 Magical Monkey Sarukui_

**Take care.**

Sensing the concern coming from the other end of the screen, Bokuto types an energetic reply for both of his friends. The other two notifications are both from Akaashi, one being a missed call and another being a text message. Both are sent to him within ten minutes of each other, to his surprise.

_7:54 Akaashi Keiji_

**Is everything okay at home?**

The last message Bokuto receives is the one that twists his guts the wrong way. He knows what he’s meant to say, but his fingers don’t type what he usually types. Akaashi’s harmless message feels like a stab to his stomach, a slap to the face that tells him that none of this is okay.

_I need your help, Akaashi._

Bokuto’s plea disappears with the repeated press of the backspace key. He can’t do it, and instead formats a response similar to the ones he sent to Konoha and Sarukui. Guilt weighs down his back. He knows he’s turned away an opportunity again.

_8:06 Bokuto_

**Yep! I’m good! ( ´ ▽ ` )**

Bokuto sends an array of emoticons, as well as the cute owl photo he found online. Locking his phone, he sets the assignments accumulated at the bottom of his bag onto the table and sorts them in order of how strict the teacher is with overdue work. His stomach growls hungrily, as a reminder of the days he spent without decent food in his system.

The headphones come off, and then back on immediately. Downstairs is still a war zone, and Bokuto isn’t heading into the kitchen full of land mines. He reaches under his bed instead, rifling around until the glass of a peanut butter jar hits his palm.

Contents of the jar decreasing faster than ever before, Bokuto estimates he could get about a few spoonfuls out of it at most. The onigiri he bought from the convenience store is gone too, although efforts to make it last were made. Accessing the fridge in the morning was his top priority, aside from the homework. If he doesn’t wake up early enough, he can accomplish none of that.

One look at the English assignment and Bokuto wants to throw it out the window. He slams his pencil case onto the desk, fishing out a few mechanical pencils and a red pen. The sunlight grows weaker as Bokuto works on his reports, his eyes straining to read the minuscule writing as his room becomes dimmer.

Hunger isn’t an issue for long. Scoop after scoop of peanut butter disappears into Bokuto’s mouth, the chunks of peanut sticking in his teeth as he feeds himself what’s become his dinner for the day. The taste becomes tiring on his tongue after the first few bites, and the sickly-sweet stickiness lingers on the roof of his mouth.

He doesn’t stop consuming the peanut butter at a steady pace, until the jar is completely empty with the remains scraped off. It sits heavy in his stomach and he struggles to keep it down, but he’s determined to let his body digest what little food he consumed.

Night falls as Bokuto continues clicking his mechanical pencil, which leaves indents on his thumb and middle finger. Scribbling down down the results his sloppy, slowed thought process gives him, he fights the urge to sleep as he passes the midnight mark. His writing becomes less legible with every turn of a page, his eyelids almost fully closed by the time his reports are fit to be called done. His head bobs up and down once or twice, then lands splat on his notebook as he goes out like a light.

The curtains are left open, leaving Bokuto vulnerable to the morning sun that attacks his face. Blinding light shines through the window, and his face scrunches up to avoid as much brightness as he can. He groans, knowing his efforts are useless against the sun that seems to scream “The Messiah has arrived!”

Bokuto removes his headphones, setting them on the desk beside his completed assignment. Aside from the ting of bicycle bells and the morning breeze, it’s silent, which isn’t a surprise. Picking up his phone, Bokuto can read the numbers _5:14_ on the lock screen featuring a _Shounen Jump_ character.

 _It’s_ _safe to head downstairs_ , he thinks. With slippers to protect his otherwise bare feet, he hurriedly heads downstairs and reaches the kitchen. The state it’s left in is horrific in itself, but not particularly surprising. Bokuto would be surprised if it were left in a pristine condition. There’s definitely more glass on the floor than the eye can see, and he’s glad he trusted his gut instinct to wear slippers.

He sweeps away at the floor to clear his path, from the kitchen entrance to his fridge. As soon as he opens it, a wave of dread hits him. It must have gotten unplugged amidst the fighting. Bokuto plugs it back in, but he knows he has to throw out the meat and leftovers. He isn’t taking any chances, not after what happened the day before with the stir-fry that turned rancid.

The tomatoes in the fridge become Bokuto’s breakfast. His teeth tear into the fleshy tomatoes with ease, and the sweet juices burst into his mouth with every bite. He swallows down three in quick succession, and they’re gone as soon as he found them. He returns to his room afterwards, laying back down to pass the time until it’s a reasonable time to go to school.

Bokuto returns to his room, packs away his assignment and changes into his uniform. The peanut butter jar is discarded at the bottom of the bin, scraped of all its contents. He leaves the house without a word, closing the door carefully but firmly. Once he’s a safe distance away, he starts humming a song from a TV advertisement as he follows his usual route to school.

As soon as he shows up for morning practice, Konoha’s shoulder bumps into his. “Hey, what was yesterday about? Are you feeling fine now?” His hair is sticking up at a strange angle, and a sleepy sigh escapes his lips. It’s a well-known fact that Konoha is not a morning person. He isn’t a night owl, either. He’s more of a permanently exhausted owl.

“Yup! All good!” Bokuto waits for Konoha to get changed, patting the third year’s back in a friendly manner. “I ate some weird stir-fry. I was dying.” He gestures in an overdramatic fashion, twisting his face into an expression of disgust. He’s met with Konoha rolling his eyes at him.

“Bokuto! It’s been a long time!” Komi and Sarukui joins the club room, slapping Bokuto playfully. “We thought you were going to rise up to heaven.” Komi and Bokuto get involved in light banter, while the remaining team members enter and get into their uniforms. When Akaashi pops in with Washio and Onaga, Bokuto waves at him enthusiastically.

Akaashi notices Bokuto’s lack of sleep immediately. “You haven’t been resting well, have you?” He accuses, loud enough for the others to hear. While it’s true that Akaashi’s witnessed Bokuto hitting various low points, he doesn’t get the meaning behind the sudden overprotectiveness. _As if to compensate for his parents_ \- the thought crosses his mind, and he groans at its stupidity.

“What?! I’ve slept better than yesterday, and the day before!”

“That doesn’t mean you’ve slept _enough_.”

“Well, I’m not tired at all! I’ll race you around the gymnasium, if you wanna-“

“No, thank you.”

Akaashi shuts down Bokuto’s suggestion without considering it for a moment. It’s almost unsettling, how Akaashi seems to peer into his physical condition so accurately. A strange part of Bokuto views the setter as somewhat superhuman. “Weh, _boring_! Whatever, morning practice’s done!” He scampers off in a fake pout, sticking his tongue out at Akaashi.

The fourth class just before lunch rolls around, and it’s the class that Bokuto worked until past midnight for. His heart races for a split second, in the brief moments he’s unsure of whether he brought the assignment with him or not. He unknowingly makes a show of himself, taking out every folder from his desk and flipping through them loudly until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Bokuto,” his teacher’s voice has a hint of disapproval in it. Oh _no_. Bokuto pales, checking if he had taken out the right reports. The date on it matches the date he started, so that can’t be it. He hastily skims over the pages, and goes from pale to red. “Why are all your paragraphs one section ahead of where they’re meant to be?”

A large sigh escapes him. “I should be the one sighing, not you!” His teacher says snappily, tapping his index finger onto the sheet and reeling away in disgust. “And why is there peanut butter on this? What were you thinking? Is this assignment just an accompaniment of your snack?” The corner of Bokuto’s mouth lifts as he takes the barrage of sharp comments, but he isn’t all that affected. The first thing that comes to mind his how he’ll be asked to fix it.

“Peanut butter, Bokuto? Really?”

“How hungry are you on a daily basis, anyway?”

His classmates are in fits of giggles, much to the teacher’s ire. Bokuto can’t help but to laugh with them. He prefers an atmosphere that he can smile in, rather than one where he can feel tension in the air.

“Shut up and get back to work, all of you! Bokuto, you’ll be staying with me for lunch until you finish that assignment, properly.”

Bokuto sticks out his lower lip when the teacher isn’t looking. He could have gotten a worse fate, but staying with the middle-aged teacher isn’t appealing in any way. Akaashi can’t toss to him during the break if he’s in a classroom, cooped up with a pencil in his hand.

The lack of sleep hits hard during lunch. Bokuto can feel it in his head and solar plexus, which slows down his writing speed exponentially. His teacher stares at him, disgruntled by his display. “Don’t you have anything in your mind other than volleyball? You’re a third year now, college exams aren’t easy!” Of course he knows. He’s heard every variation of that lecture. He doesn’t respond, focusing on ending the task at hand.

“Bokuto, sports can fail you so easily if you get injured or have a slip-up. You shouldn’t treat it with the same value as your studies. It’s time you start thinking about your future instead of making memories.” Bokuto bites his lip. He knows it’s coming from a good place, but he really doesn’t want to think about the future right now. He’d rather write lines, because he’d at least know what he was doing then.

_Are you listening?_

Konoha’s face peers into Bokuto’s, his narrow eyes observing the captain. “Come on. Warm-ups.” He starts calling out the counts for each exercise, going around in a full circle until the pair exercises begin. Bokuto’s glance wavers between the gym floor and Akaashi, wondering if he already knows what happened during lunch. He shouldn’t, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

“Nice kill!”

Bokuto lands spike after spike into the court, with a burning desire to prove to Akaashi he doesn’t need to be watched over. He’s almost sure he’s managed to take away any worry Akaashi has for him. “Hey hey, Akaashi!” He holds his hand up for a high-five, and doesn’t miss the split second in which Akaashi draws back after their palms touch.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto starts, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walks home alongside his friend. “Do you not like being touched by me?”

Akaashi makes a choked noise, snapping his head back to Bokuto in mild alarm. “What- no, why? What made you think that?”

“Just wondering.” Bokuto crosses his arms, ending the discussion around that particular subject. Akaashi doesn’t seem to be lying. He shouldn’t have any reason to. “Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow. Give me a good toss, maybe thirty more than today!” He announces, and Akaashi looks like he’s unsure whether to take him seriously or not.

“Bye-bye!” Akaashi still seems like he wants to say something, but Bokuto turns his back and waves before he can continue. A few seconds later and Bokuto knows he must have given up, as the footsteps that continue to grow quieter tell him. Although he hates to admit it, he can’t handle the lack of Akaashi’s high fives and claps on the back. He misses being able to have that in his life.

Today, it’s about the fridge. Bokuto can hear his parents arguing about the potentially spoiled food, which he threw away before anyone could get Salmonella or E. Coli or whatever was in season at the very moment. It doesn’t matter to him, because he’s already suffered through whatever it was that he had.

“Why did you throw it away without asking me? I could have done something with it instead of you wasting the ingredients!”

“I didn’t throw it away, so you can shut your mouth!”

“Um,” Bokuto slides himself between his parents, holding out a hand as if to shield both from the other. “You guys can stop arguing, because I’m the one who threw it away. It was gone off, anyway.” He admits truthfully, hastily explaining his actions so that he hopefully wouldn’t receive a strict punishment.

His mother stares at him with an “Unbelievable” look. Then she slaps the right side of his head. “You keep out of this! Shut up and do something productive with your time for once!” It stung, both his heart and his head. The rage was directed towards him instead of his father, who stared at him in a way that made it known he agreed with his mother.

“I’m sorry.” Bokuto could barely turn away to hide the look of relief on his face. His parents were agreeing on something for the first time in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you liked this chapter!


	5. Just a Disturbance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a concerning amount of time ever since Akaashi’s seen Bokuto’s world start to crumble. Despite being around to comfort Bokuto on multiple occasions and staying with him as much as possible, he hasn’t gotten any leads on what he’s going through. Bokuto doesn’t talk about it, and Akaashi can’t force him to. 
> 
> Akaashi leaves for school with the hope that Bokuto will open up to him, tell him that he’s not okay, that he needs help. Touching Bokuto comes with a feeling of hopelessness and pain deep in his heart that sits heavy in him, and he isn’t letting anyone know about his situation at home. Akaashi loves Bokuto’s smile, but not when he’s masking his pain. 
> 
> The moment he steps into the building, everything feels wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally done.  
> I am sorry for the wait.  
> I have too many lame excuses I won't mention.  
> Enjoy my bullshit.  
> Tw homophobic language and yeah general fuckers behaving like that

It’s been a concerning amount of time ever since Akaashi’s seen Bokuto’s world start to crumble. Despite being around to comfort Bokuto on multiple occasions and staying with him as much as possible, he hasn’t gotten any leads on what he’s going through. Bokuto doesn’t talk about it, and Akaashi can’t force him to.

Akaashi leaves for school with the hope that Bokuto will open up to him, tell him that he’s not okay, that he needs help. Touching Bokuto comes with a feeling of hopelessness and pain deep in his heart that sits heavy in him, and he isn’t letting anyone know about his situation at home. Akaashi loves Bokuto’s smile, but not when he’s masking his pain.

The moment he steps into the building, everything feels wrong.

A crowd is formed around class 2-6’s lockers, and Akaashi instantly notices several pairs of eyes staring at him as he advances closer, with the intent of getting out his shoes. That’s when he realises that everyone is gathered at his locker. Some students back away upon seeing him, but the majority of the second years simply turn to stare at him.

“What are you all doing here?”

Akaashi’s question is answered by an unsettling grin, and he sees a page torn from a notebook stuck to his locker. Something is scrawled on it in rushed handwriting, mostly blocked by the heads of all the students. What Akaashi catches a glimpse of makes something in his stomach rise.

_News flash: Akaashi is a homo. Stay tuned for updates on his relationship with his captain!_

“ ** _Move_**!” Akaashi pushes past the onlookers with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Whoever had the clever idea of publicly humiliating him was going to be dealt with later, but this? This had gone way too far. When it involves not just him, but explicitly mentions Bokuto, it can drag the whole volleyball team’s name in the mud. He isn’t allowing that to happen.

He rips the paper from his locker, shoving it into his backpack violently. His copybooks hit against his fingers and leave angry red indents. “Leave Bokuto-san out of this.” He hisses dangerously, rage boiling his body over up to his head. If it weren’t for his rational side, he would already be throwing hands.

Nobody has the courage to speak to Akaashi for a good thirty seconds, and it’s enough time for him to pull out his shoes and slip them on, while throwing his outdoor ones inside his locker. His face is warm, and it spreads all the way to the tips of his hands. He has about seven detailed worst-case scenarios playing out in his head, but the urge to confront whoever dared to pull such a vile stunt overrides every one of them.

“Your obsession with that Bokuto-san is creepy. You’re always sticking to him like glue. Maybe that’s why people think you’re gay.” A student from the class beside him cackles, sauntering over to him. Suspicions immediately rise within Akaashi.

Akaashi clenches his fists and grinds his molars together. They have absolutely no right to talk about his “obsession” when they haven’t seen beyond Bokuto’s goofy exterior. Bruises and anxiety attacks remain hidden to them, and Akaashi’s just a vice captain who loves Bokuto too much. Whether or not Akaashi loved him, it wasn’t an excuse to spread rumours concerning him.

“Maybe I care about my friend and enjoy his company.” Akaashi replies coldly, his voice dripping with venom. He isn’t telling a lie, as far as he’s concerned. Bokuto needs help, and he isn’t getting nearly as much as he should be. “Get out of my way.”

A large backpack slams into Akaashi’s hand as soon as it brushes against the other student’s shirt. “Don’t touch me with your filthy hands. I bet it’s been touching dick all night.” He spits, wiping his hand on the fabric of his jacket. Akaashi tenses at the words, biting the inside of his cheek and concentrating on the pain it’s causing.

“Hey, stop it now! Akaashi’s done nothing bad to you!” A classmate rushes to his defence, shielding him from the backpack. “You don’t get to treat people like shit because you saw a note on their locker. You’re just trying to find an excuse to pick on someone and get away with it!”

“I’ll tell you what,” The student sneers, ignoring the ranting student and pushing a finger into Akaashi’s chest. Hatred was all Akaashi could feel. Hatred for him, the guy who supposedly had a thing for his captain. “I don’t need a disgusting fag in my school. Watch your back, Akaashi Keiji.”

The student disappears after shoving Akaashi’s shoulder violently. Nobody dares stand up for him. Apparently, it’s a lot harder when he’s rumoured to prefer guys. Akaashi swallows hard, marching up the stairs to get to his class. He feels naked, stripped bare until his identity is just a cruel joke.

Rumours matter a lot more when he can’t deny them outright.

A few students give him a look saying _I’ve seen all the shit unfold_ when he enters the classroom. Akaashi’s heart rings noisily in his ears, and he wants to cover himself up with something large. His height and hair suddenly feel out of place, a contributing factor in making him stick out like a sore thumb.

He feigns calmness, knowing it’s over for him if he loses his cool. For a moment, he wonders if the whole thing will be forgotten about. And then the student sitting beside him pulls his desk away from his. Akaashi bites his lip, determined to not let it get to him. He realises Bokuto’s probably waiting for him at morning practice, and a flash of guilt hits him.

 _It’s not a confirmation_ , he tells himself. He isn’t outed if there’s no proof. But to him, he might as well have been. It’s not like he can come out if he wants to now. Would Bokuto kick him out of the volleyball team? He’s sure it won’t happen, but he can’t help the thought of Bokuto never looking at him the same way.

If that happens, he might as well resign. He’s hidden his complicated feelings that made his heart itch so well. A fleeting high school crush was what it was. Platonic or romantic, he had an affection for Bokuto, one that made his heart swell with pride when Bokuto blasted a spike past three blockers, that broke him into a million pieces when he saw him hurt and scared.

“Akaashi, hey.” Akaashi jumps when his shoulder is tapped with a mechanical pencil. He’s been on high alert mode for all his classes, and the tension is built up in his shoulders. “You’re not actually gay, right? It’s pretty creepy to think you of all people.” 

“You think I’m gay because of some idiot plastering something on my locker?” Akaashi squints incredulously. He tears his hair out inside because _why does it matter_? He shouldn’t be respected less because he likes boys. He doesn’t want to deny a part of his identity. Caring for and admiring Bokuto is a part of him, and it’s not something he wants people to have a giggle over.

He’s met with a shrug. “I don’t know, dude. You seem pretty attracted to Bokuto-senpai. I mean, I wouldn’t say he’d date you, but you’re literally pining.” Akaashi cringes at the last word. He isn’t pining, he can confirm that himself. Apparently it doesn’t seem like that.

“He’s my best friend. It’s obvious that I’d care about him. Maybe your idea of pining is friends being friends.”

“Whatever you say. Just don’t come at my ass.”

Akaashi pulls a disgusted expression. “Do you think I would want your ass, in any way?” He doesn’t care if he comes off as being rude. It’s not his fault his classmate is fearing he’s more attractive than he actually is. If he wants to be so unnecessarily scared, he’ll let him be.

“ _Akaaaaaaaaaaashi_!”

Bokuto leaps onto Akaashi’s back from behind, catching him off guard. Akaashi lets out an ungodly shriek, flailing briefly before regaining his balance. “Let’s eat lunch! I’m hungry! Like, _soooo_ hungry.” Bokuto draws out his words and slaps Akaashi’s shoulder numerous times, nudging him affectionately.

“Then eat a bigger breakfast. Or buy something from the shop.”

Bokuto blows a raspberry, turning his pockets inside out. “I’m broke! I only have enough to buy a small bento box.” He sighs, ruffling his multicoloured hair.

“Why didn’t you come to morning practice?”

Akaashi almost chokes on his green tea. He looks for a way to make a believable excuse without sounding like a complete idiot or telling the truth. _I almost fought someone for spreading rumours about you and I dating_. No big deal. He knew Bokuto was more perceptive and intelligent than people gave him credit for.

“I was on class duty on my own. I had to run some errands because I was late.” Akaashi lied, hoping that his excuse was good enough to make Bokuto stop asking. Bokuto made a “Hmm” sound, not questioning him any further.

“Akaashi, what happened this morning?”

Akaashi heaves a deep sigh. “I just told you I had class duties. What more do you want to hear?” His voice quivers, and Bokuto doesn’t fail to notice. A sturdy hand wraps around his shoulder, and the throbbing deep inside his chest increases. It’s Bokuto’s pain, overlapping with his own.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto’s voice calling out his name is painfully soft, and his grip tightens. “I want to know why you’re about to cry.”

And Akaashi can’t hold it in anymore. A pressure on his throat chokes him up, and tears well up in his eyes. “Something happened,” he whispers, biting his lip to stop a sob from escaping. Silent tears run down his cheeks, and Bokuto attempts to comfort him in all the ways he can possibly think of.

“Shit, something _did_ happen.” Bokuto sits Akaashi down outside, placing a gentle hand on his back and rubbing circles. Akaashi could go on and on about everything that happened, that he isn’t okay, he needs a hug from his best friend. But he feels disgusting, like he shouldn’t be touched by such a clear, pure soul.

Akaashi’s crying audibly now, the sounds muffled by Bokuto’s shoulder. “Hey, hey. What’s making you upset, Akaashi?” Bokuto tries to pinpoint the cause of Akaashi’s sudden breakdown, but his only response is more ugly sobbing. Akaashi hates the way he cries. The way his eyes become puffy and the way his whole face looks all swollen up, the way his voice cracks. He wants to become invisible.

After crying until no more tears would come out, Akaashi remains absolutely still, with his head resting on Bokuto’s shoulder. “I need to know what’s wrong, Akaashi. I’m worried for you.” Akaashi doesn’t answer, unsure whether he should tell him everything and take away the uneasy racing in his chest.

“I’ll be fine. I’m better.” Akaashi wipes his tear streaks off his violently, realising how much of his composure he had to regain. Bokuto peers into his face worriedly, his hands dangling at his sides. “I promise.” Akaashi pushes his point, and Bokuto draws back reluctantly.

“You’re always working so hard, Akaashi! Don’t hold it all in!” Bokuto ruffles Akaashi’s hair, messing it up further. And Akaashi genuinely _does_ feel better. Bokuto doesn’t have a massive vocabulary, but he knows exactly what to say to cheer him up.

It’s hard not to have a special spot in his heart for him.

Akaashi kicks back in his seat once he gets back to class. His confidence is a lot firmer, although he jumps when someone throws a ball of scrunched-up paper at him. Unwrapping it, he realises it’s not what he’s expected.

_Don’t mind those idiots. We’re on your side, Akaashi!_

He knows it’s not just the one sender when he sees signatures littered across the sheet, ranging from horrible writing to neat, even kanji. Turning around, his classmates nod stealthily at him. Akaashi mouths a thanks, folding it neatly and shoving it in his desk.

He wonders if they would all support him if they knew he was still into boys.

The first time he realised he wasn’t just into girls was when he was in middle school. He was way too young to confirm anything before that, he had told himself. But he couldn’t explain the attraction he had for all the boys that smiled a little brighter and lived a little more colourfully than the others. Although he’d never been told, he’d known it wasn’t normal to like both boys and girls. They never spoke of it as more than a joke.

Even with a supportive family and a definite identity, Akaashi isn’t proud. He can’t be if he wanted to. He wants it to be more than something he felt guilty and uncomfortable about, but he isn’t in a situation where he can be accepted without question.

Word spreads quickly, up into the third years’ floor. Akaashi is pleasantly surprised that not many people are against him as he thought. He isn’t sure what to expect. It’s just a rumour, but he hasn’t attempted to deny it. Maybe he should have. But he can’t act like it’s okay to let the cycle continue.

“Akaashi, hey. You okay?”

Konoha asks as soon as he enters the club room. _So_ _Konoha-san knows too_ , Akaashi muses. He knows about his current situation that he’d been thrown into. Maybe the entire volleyball team knows. They probably would if Bokuto knew, one way or another.

“I’m fine. Are you…” Akaashi bites the inside of his cheek out of nervous habit. He draws a breath, “Are you disgusted?” He doesn’t attempt to explain anything, and heads straight to what’s bothering him the most.

“No! I’m not an asshole, Akaashi. I don’t care if you like girls or boys.” Konoha throws his hands up in a surrender. He pats Akaashi’s shoulder reassuringly, and Akaashi knows he’s telling the truth. “Look, I won’t do anything that’ll get us in trouble, but believe me, I was _just about_ to throw hands.”

Akaashi’s unimpressed stare pierces into Konoha. “Please, Konoha-san. Don’t stoop down to their level.” He doesn’t encourage him in any way, but if it did happen without consequences, he wouldn’t complain. “I don’t want to tarnish the reputation of this club.”

“Everyone else is on your side here too, Akaashi! If they’re not, fuck them. We’ve been through everything for these three years. Bokuto’s emo modes, annoying blocks, frustrating losses. And now we’re going to… Uh, you’d be mad if I said I’d give them hell.”

Konoha quickly shuts himself down, scratching his head sheepishly. Sarukui and Komi join them, while arguing about something with a _fuming_ Bokuto. One glance at the captain and Akaashi knows he’s livid. The last time he’s seen Bokuto this angry was a year ago, when a third year at a rival school had attempted to jump Washio. That had almost ended in violence, if it weren’t for the then-second years stopping Bokuto.

“ _I’ll_ give them hell.” Bokuto hisses, his tone low and dripping with animosity. He’s terrifying, with his signature grin completely wiped off. Akaashi isn’t sure if the whole team can stop him, with the way he is now. Someone needs to, before Bokuto rips out the Tokyo Tower with his bare hands.

Konoha is the first to interject. “Bokuto, _no_ -“ He runs a hand through his thin hair, panic flashing in his eyes. “I know it’s fucked up, but we can’t do that. Do you want our club to be suspended?” Konoha points out, becoming the voice of reason among them.

“They made Akaashi cry,” Bokuto blurts out before Akaashi can stop him. A look of shock and anger is passed through his teammates, and his fist trembles. “They had no right to. They did something horrible, and I won’t _ever forgive_ them.”

Bokuto says his last sentence with determination, each word accompanied by a dynamic hand movement. “If they ever do anything like that again, you have to tell me.” He whips around, marching towards Akaashi. “They’re lucky I’m not going to punch the living daylights out of them.”

“Bokuto-san. Please don’t. You are not going to ruin yourself and your future because of some idiots. It’s exactly what they want.” Akaashi explains, calmly poking Bokuto’s forehead. He can feel the anger radiating off him even before he touches him, and the amount of rage inside the captain actually scares him.

“Come on, Bokuto-san. Let’s practice. I’d like to drop this subject.” Akaashi announces firmly, striding out into the gymnasium. The third years follow, while Bokuto makes a dissatisfied face behind their backs. Onaga trots in after them, slightly late to the party.

Unsurprisingly, Bokuto’s emo mode has kicked in fifteen minutes later. He always goes into one when he’s preoccupied with something else, and he’s been running on rage and spite all day. It’s not a good way for him to carry on, with his spikes becoming erratic and fuelled with raw anger.

“Bokuto, get a spike in!” Sarukui calls out, and the captain leaps up to smack the volleyball down onto the court. He flies in the air for a brief second before crashing down, struggling to get a decent one in. Akaashi physically cringes, witnessing Bokuto’s spike land way off where it was meant to.

After three more tosses that end with Bokuto landing splat on the floor, the coach orders him off the court. He slumps on the benches with his chin resting on the backs of his hands, letting out a low groan of dissatisfaction. Akaashi sets to Onaga instead, teaching the eager first year how to spike the way his upperclassmen do.

“Good job, Onaga. I think you’re improving.” Akaashi states plainly, giving the taller boy an affirmative pat on his shoulder. Onaga glows with pride, grinning from ear to ear before forcing himself to look less goofy. “You can go home. Aren’t you tired?”

“Akaashi-san.” Onaga stares at his fingers, covered in sports tape at the tips. “Are you… okay? I heard something happened, and I know I can’t do much as a first year, but-“ he cuts himself off, chewing on his lip. “I don’t want to just watch it happen.”

Akaashi’s lips curl up into the faintest shadow of a smile. Even his underclassman is worrying over him, trying to help him in any way he could. But he doesn’t need all that. Onaga doesn’t, either. He isn’t getting the whole volleyball team involved into a spiralling mess.

“Thanks. But I’ll be okay. You don’t have to do anything.” Akaashi makes sure to emphasise his words just enough so that Onaga won’t feel guilty over not being able to help. The first year has a disadvantage against the second years, which really isn’t his fault.

The next day turns out worse, in terms of damage. The floor around the lockers of class six is drenched, and Akaashi manages to avoid slipping after witnessing a classmate reach their tragic fate of falling victim to the slippery floor.

He carefully advances to his locker, which turns out to be the source of the water. Droplets continuously cascade down, like tears. Drip, _drip, drip_. Akaashi’s breath is stuck in his throat, until he forces himself to calm down.

Somebody had thrown water into his locker. His books are sopping wet, every last one of them. The thinner paperback textbooks are soaked through, and he wonders if they’re possible to save. He’s handling it well, surprising even himself. It was an annoyance, at most. He wasn’t in the mood to spend money on school supplies after second year had well begun.

“Akaashi-kun, you should probably leave it out beside the windows.” Tomoka, his classmate, offers some helpful advice before anything else. “If you’re lucky, they might dry enough for you to use.” She doesn’t show much compassion, but Akaashi can tell she has no malicious intent. He knows one when it’s around him. It’s an aura dripping with poison, that chills him to the bone.

And he feels it, right behind him. “Well, well. Akaashi- _chan_ , what do we have here?” It’s the student from class two, who Akaashi hadn’t bothered remembering the name of. He doesn’t want to humanise someone who’d threatened him for being who he is. Akaashi makes a noise of distaste, standing in front of his locker protectively.

“Maybe you should mind your own business.” Akaashi takes out all of his books, ignoring the streaks of wetness that trail down his clothed arms. The water clings to his cold hands, and his fingers start to grow pale. “If you have the time to be needlessly irritating, I’m sure you can use that to search for a life.” He spits out aggressively, apprehensive even before anything happens.

“Tsuda. He’s right, you know.” Tomoka adds, her stoic demeanour unchanging. With his ego chipped, Tsuda is less than pleased to have Akaashi’s deadpan face in his view. He violently kicks the lockers, attracting the attention of at least twelve other students. Akaashi and Tomoka flinch, disappointed yet unsurprised.

“Listen here, homo.” Tsuda inches closer, and Akaashi instinctively takes a step back to maintain a safe distance. He doesn’t trust Tsuda at all to keep things non-violent. No peaceful student would ever dump water into someone’s locker first thing in the morning. “We don’t want abnormals in here. Take you and your bipolar piece of shit someplace else. Fukurodani isn’t a place for you.”

This time, it’s Akaashi who closes the distance between them. “Bokuto-san has nothing to do with your disgusting assumptions, Tsuda. Don’t you **_dare_** insult him.” His uncertainty had faded completely after his captain was degraded unfairly. He wants to destroy the person who could be so cruel to Bokuto, with all his endearing qualities.

“It’s all about protecting your precious _Bokuto-san_ , isn’t it?” Tsuda coos sickeningly, staring at Akaashi’s drenched books with a sense of satisfaction. No words need to be said in order to let Akaashi know. Anything he says will be turned against him, filtered through a different lens. He turns to head to the bathroom, but he isn’t left alone.

“Well, that’s okay. Maybe he’ll know what a disgusting person his vice captain is.” Akaashi forces himself to shut down, to shut it out. It’s not true, so why would he let it hurt him? “I’m sure he’ll be disappointed in his… best friend.”

“Leave it out, Tsuda.” Akaashi snaps back, fumbling to get into a stall. “I don’t care about what you have to say about my best friend. The fact that I have one in the first place says a lot.”

“Listen here, Akaashi Keiji.” Tsuda grabs a fistful of Akaashi’s hair, sending him stumbling forwards. A knee drives up Akaashi’s stomach, and tears of pain rise up in his eyes. “You’re in no position to talk to me like that. Keep your mouth shut, I’m sure its only use is for sucking cock anyway.” Tsuda leaves, but Akaashi doesn’t follow.

Akaashi’s entire midsection throbs with every hot flash that travels through him. It’s not just the pain that bothers him. It’s the pure hate, aimed at him. He’s alone in the bathroom, wanting to throw up and disappear somewhere that’s not where he is now. He tries to make himself as small as he could, rocking back and forth with his face buried into his knees.

He’s a mess, and he knows it.

Bokuto seems to have picked just the right day to cling to him more than ever. He keeps an arm around him as he walks during lunchtime, as if he could protect him from anything. Akaashi can’t bring himself to push him off, instead staring down at his legs and letting his mind wander off to the books that he’d attempted to dry in the sun.

“Akaashi, don’t worry! I can shield you from anything!” Bokuto claims, and Akaashi’s chest aches. He can’t do anything without involving himself dangerously, or making a huge mess one way or another. Akaashi had decided he wasn’t involving Bokuto in any way. He shakes his head, casting away his suggestions.

Bokuto bites into his bread roll messily, getting yakisoba on both sides of his mouth. Akaashi picks at his favourites in his bento box, his appetite completely lost after the confrontation he’d had. “Don’t concern yourself with my problems.” He deflects Bokuto as best as he could, avoiding his craning neck.

“But I _am_ concerned. If you’re having a sad day, I’ll be sad too. We both have to be happy!” Bokuto clasps Akaashi’s hand, rubbing his cheek against the second year’s shoulder. Akaashi can feel Bokuto’s concern surging into him, coming from the third year trying to support him.

Akashi shakes his head a little harder, pressing Bokuto’s cheeks. “You can’t just get dragged down by other people’s moods,” he doesn’t mention Bokuto’s own less-than-stable mood, or how he’s the one affected the most by how other people feel.

“But you’re not an _other-people_. You’re my bestest friend!”

“I know I am, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi assures the third year, although he isn’t happy with where Bokuto manages to bring their debates. The trouble with Bokuto isn’t that he goes off in the wrong direction altogether, it is that he’s right in the worst moments possible.

“Then why won’t you even tell me how your morning was? Can you not tell me what happened?”

_No, not really, Bokuto-san._

“Someone was being annoying again. It’s nothing you should be worrying your head over.”

Bokuto doesn’t take Akaashi’s vague answer. “What did they do to you?” He pursues further, and Akaashi can’t help himself averting the owlish captain’s powerful gaze. He can’t use all the psychological tactics he’s learned over the years when Bokuto starts behaving like this. It’s futile.

“Some stupid prank over at the locker area.” Akaashi mumbles, keeping his response short and lacking information. He’s chased himself down into a corner, now that he’s revealed part of what actually did happen. He could have lied, but Bokuto would catch him out straight away.

“No. What did they do to you, Akaashi?” Bokuto asks again, firmly. Akaashi shivers from the intensity of his emotions, and he can feel them jumping out at him even before he touches him. He’s angry, or at least partly frustrated. Maybe even murderous.

Akaashi breaks the lock on his mouth at last. “Some idiot in my year poured water in my locker. I was pretty pissed.” He sighs out of exasperation, but Bokuto’s gone way past that stage. He’s angry. Too angry for Akaashi’s liking, but he can’t be stopped now.

“That’s property damage, if you make it sound serious.” Bokuto points out. It was a mystery how he knows something so complicated, but there are many things he knows that Akaashi doesn’t. Writing kanji is not one of them.

“I guess so.”

“Akaashi,” Bokuto nudges him, forcing him to make eye contact. Akaashi can tell Bokuto’s almost as livid as yesterday. “I’m just disappointed you didn’t tell me straight away. Maybe I can’t do much, but you have to follow your own advice.”

“You’re really important to me. As a captain, a friend and a person. Please, just don’t pretend you’re okay all the time. It’s my turn to be a help to you.”

Akaashi opens his mouth to say it’s fine, and closes it. He knows when he’s beaten with words. “Thank you. And so are you, Bokuto-san. You’re great. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He knows Bokuto does have people telling him otherwise, at an unknown frequency.

Bokuto’s fighters brush against his own. He’s okay again, until the lunch bell sounds and Bokuto’s mood immediately drops. He hasn’t stopped to think about what’s been happening in Bokuto’s side, and now he wishes he has.

If Bokuto isn’t okay _with_ him, he can’t stand it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments fuel my soul.  
> I love you all  
> Visit my tumblr  
> @hai-cuties  
> I am so happy to write this! I'm just dead sounding because it's nearly midnight,,,,


	6. Lies, and One Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The locker incident isn’t the last one that Akaashi has to deal with. He wishes the act of malice was a once-off event he could forget about, but they don’t let him forget. They don’t let him forget that he’s less than everyone else because he’s attracted to men. Even if what separates him from others is his mysterious power, according to his classmates it’s because he’s bisexual.
> 
> Akaashi chooses not to explain that not being straight doesn’t automatically equal to homosexuality. People don’t have to choose one gender to fall in love with. In Akaashi’s case, it’s all of them.
> 
> Unfortunately, he knows they don’t care. There are only two categories, according to them; normal and abnormal. No matter what Akaashi does, he can’t fit in like he used to. He’s the awkward puzzle piece with bumps jotting out.
> 
> They never laid a hand on him. They didn’t have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi.  
> I was gonna do this yesterday, but I had to finish it up today because going out and stuff.  
> Hopefully I can update this more often this year!  
> (I mean, 6 chapters in a year... I'm ashamed of myself.)  
> Thank you all! 
> 
> tw: homophobic language and bullying

The locker incident isn’t the last one that Akaashi has to deal with. He wishes the act of malice was a once-off event he could forget about, but they don’t let him forget. They don’t let him forget that he’s less than everyone else because he’s attracted to men. Even if what separates him from others is his mysterious power, according to his classmates it’s because he’s bisexual.

Akaashi chooses not to explain that not being straight doesn’t automatically equal to homosexuality. People don’t have to choose one gender to fall in love with. In Akaashi’s case, it’s all of them.

Unfortunately, he knows they don’t care. There are only two categories, according to them; normal and abnormal. No matter what Akaashi does, he can’t fit in like he used to. He’s the awkward puzzle piece with bumps jotting out.

They never laid a hand on him. They didn’t have to.

One afternoon, his desk is filled with soil and grass. His textbooks that weren’t destroyed from the locker incident are smeared with dirt, although the covers had taken most of the damage. He decides against buying new textbooks. If they get ruined as well, it would be a waste of money to get them in the first place.

He can handle it, he tells himself.

There are insults scribbled in pencil over his desk, that he rubs out every afternoon. It’s in pencil, so he can erase them. They’re not carved into the wood. They say he’s disgusting, vile and below them because he likes guys. If he rubs them out, though, they don’t count. He just needs to rub them out, then. He’s okay.

He won’t let it get to him. He’s above them all, he won’t stoop to their level. After all, nothing can hurt him unless he lets it. If the people he care about accept him for who he is, what more could he ask for?

_Lies._

Every time he hears a whisper in the hallway, it stings. Remarks leave him in a low mood, no matter how little he believes in what’s being said. He’s not _really_ upset, just down. He’s more happy than sad, but that doesn’t mean he’s in a good place.

Words matter. If Bokuto were to tell him he loves him, it would stop his heart. If he called him disgusting, he would break into pieces. If he didn’t say anything to him anymore, that would affect him the most. Words, or the absence of them, matter.

Akaashi wonders what affects Bokuto. Words, actions, maybe both. At home, something’s going on. Akaashi doesn’t know what.

If Bokuto’s parents picked up on the rumours, what would they think?

Bokuto doesn’t talk to him much about his family life. Perhaps he doesn’t want to. He likes to talk about Akaashi’s family. His siblings, his mother, even his extended family. Bokuto loves to hang around at the Akaashi residence and browse the family photos, or just appreciate the air of trust and calmness.

Akaashi doesn’t want to pry, but Bokuto doesn’t seem to be getting any better. He still feels sparks of pain in his chest when he high-fives Bokuto. The bruises on his back are long gone, but the pain goes way beyond physical, he can tell.

Bokuto could be crying in his room, even now. Or maybe he was bottling everything up, unable to let it all out. The latter is the painful one. Emotions worsen tenfold when there is no way to express them. If that’s that case, it’s only a matter of time before everything bursts out.

Even though their lives are far from pleasant, there’s something that both of them look forward to every day, while eagerly crossing off the days on their calendars. Akaashi isn’t sure if Bokuto really does that too, but he probably does. After all, what’s coming up is the annual summer training camp at Shinzen.

Akaashi has only participated in it before once, when he was a first year. He had met Kuroo with the godawful hairdo there, who unfortunately was adamant on Bokuto and him being his best buddies through hell and back.  Akaashi has already been through hell and back with him, so he qualifies as one, really. Akaashi now has a love-hate friendship with him, a considerable improvement compared to the one in his first year.

He’s also heard that Karasuno has been improving. They had gotten as far as getting into the top sixteen teams in the InterHigh tournament, although they’d lost to Aobajohsai. Bokuto's been going on about two first years in particular, a genius setter and a spiker that could hit with his eyes closed. The spiker had also become friends with Kenma, a considerable feat that not many could accomplish.

It’s certainly going to be an interesting training camp.

“Bokuto-san, have you gathered up the money?” Akaashi places his hands on his hips, urging Bokuto to quit slacking off and perform his duties as a captain. He needs to hand out the permission slips and collect the money, neither of which he has done. It’s a part of the vice captain’s job to make sure the captain is doing what he’s meant to be doing, although that may be exclusive to Fukurodani High.

Bokuto whips around and sticks out his bottom lip. “I’ll do it tomorrow, I promise! I can do the handouts today though, so you can praise me for that!”

Akaashi thinks his eyes can’t roll back any further. “This is a week overdue. We need to get our duties done before our coach chews us out.” After a short pause, Akaashi resigns himself to his fate. “And if you’re quick about it, I’ll give you my fried chicken pieces next time my mom cooks up a batch of them.”

“Yay! Lucky me!”

Bokuto’s honey eyes widen at the promise of food as a reward. He works best when there’s something to look forward to in the end. “A man like me needs his protein! You’re helping me out a lot, Akaashi!”

“Excessive consumption of protein is not good for your health. To maintain your muscles and healthy body, it is important to have a healthy diet full of vegetables and fruit. I can also share my grilled peppers tomorrow, Bokuto-san.”

Akaashi doesn’t let Bokuto get a word in until he finishes his food lecture. His mother has gone out of her way to teach him the importance of eating right, and he intends to enlighten his captain with the knowledge passed onto him. “Have you been eating decent meals, Bokuto-san? I only see you buying cheap bread at the store. You need to eat right to have a good immune system.”

“I know, I know! Stop bombarding me with facts, Akaashi!”

“So you’re admitting that I’m right.” Akaashi tilts his head slightly, his mouth forming a lopsided grin.

“You’re right, okay?! Dammit! I can never win against you!”

Akaashi lets out a soft chuckle. He ruffles Bokuto’s hair until he lets out a “Gweh!”, but immediately flinches. His shoulder is blasted with a shooting pain, his right shoulder. The one Bokuto uses to spike. Concern sets in.

“Hey, Bokuto-san. Is your shoulder okay?”

Bokuto nods breezily, as if Akaashi had merely asked him about the weather. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” He rolls his shoulders around, and Akaashi internally grimaces.

“Say, have you hurt it recently? Or maybe strained it?”

Akaashi squints at Bokuto until he does his nervous, high-pitched laugh while averting his eyes. It’s his trademark giggle he lets out when he knows Akaashi will see right through whatever he says.

“Tell the truth. It’s a lot easier than making up a story right now.” Akaashi adds mercilessly.

“I missed my appointment this week. I was supposed to go for a follow-up examination, but I couldn’t.”

Bokuto isn’t lying, Akaashi can tell. “Appointment? You haven’t told me about this.”

“Yeah, I guess I haven’t.” Bokuto had to have hid it from him consciously, judging from his body language laced with guilt.

As much as Akaashi wants to lecture him, he decides on asking the important questions first. “And what are you being checked up for? Did you twist something in your shoulder, or is it less serious?”

Bokuto starts shifting where he stands, his hands unconsciously playing with each other. “You know when I told you I fell down the stairs a couple of weeks ago?” Akaashi’s eyes widen. It’s been a considerable time ever since he asked him about his bruises, more than enough time for all short-term injuries to heal.

“I kind of fucked up my shoulder when that happened.” Bokuto admits. “I hurt it when I knocked it against the wall, and it’s painful on bad days.”

Bad days. Akaashi attempts to calculate how many of those Bokuto’s had in the past few weeks. When he hasn’t managed to get good spikes in and execute satisfying plays. It wasn’t enough to be noticeable, but Akaashi’s already learned that Bokuto is better at hiding things than he thought.

Akaashi heaves a sigh of frustration. “Why have you been keeping this from everyone? You can’t just play when you have an injury.” It’s nothing new, Bokuto hiding his injuries and sicknesses from the team, but it does disappoint Akaashi. Sharing weaknesses has never been Bokuto’s thing, but Akaashi was his best friend. He wanted to be trusted.

Bokuto shakes his head violently. “It only hurts a bit! It’s gotten better, don’t worry! They said I could play soon if I continue recovering like this.”

Akaashi’s brows knit together tightly. “Play soon?” he repeats, narrowing his eyes. “So you’ve been told you shouldn’t be playing, and yet you’ve been doing exactly that for all these weeks.”

He doesn’t let Bokuto off easy. He can’t, not when nobody manages to understand the seriousness of Bokuto’s situation. He cares for him too much to let it go unnoticed any longer.

“Have you told the coach about this? Or anyone else, for that matter?”

“No…” Bokuto admits truthfully. Akaashi can’t hide the disappointment crossing his face, and Bokuto notices. “But I’ve been resting it!” Bokuto protests weakly.

“How many spikes have you pleaded me for, after I suggested we stop?” Akaashi crosses his arms, giving off his no-nonsense attitude. “I don’t know when you’ve been resting it. Certainly not during practice.” His voice is stern, cutting through the air.

He continues, and Bokuto shrinks under his glacial gaze. “Are you going to be able to go to our training camp in Shinzen like this?” He regrets his words a moment after he utters them. Maybe he’s gone too far. Bokuto flinches and bows his head instead of launching himself into a passionate rant.

“It’s okay, Bokuto-san. I’m not angry at you.” Akaashi reassures him, noticing the early signs of Bokuto’s dejected mode. He’s meant to be helping him, not fretting him. “Don’t be thinking that. I want you to take better care of yourself, that’s all.”

Akaashi lets his finger brush against Bokuto’s shoulder, ever so slightly. His powers come into good use when he needs to detect lies, although he has his doubts whether it’s the most ethical way of using them. “Is there something that concerns you about the training camp?”

Bokuto shakes his head, but the quickening of his heartbeat tells Akaashi otherwise. “Is there going to be someone you don’t get along with? Or is there something bothering you about going to that particular school?”

_No, that’s not it._

“I’m fine, there’s nothing bothering me. It’s okay, really!”

_Lies._

Bokuto’s unconsciously squirming, itching to be left alone. Akaashi can’t stop now, not when he’s so close to finding out. “What’s worrying you? If you tell me, I’ll help you in whatever way I can.”

Konoha pops into the club room, and Akaashi feels guilty after wanting to kick him in the shin. “What are you guys doing? Practice is gonna start. Hurry up!” He bangs his fist on the door, rolling his eyes exasperatedly.

“And Bokuto, don’t push all your responsibilities onto Akaashi, ya hear me?”

Bokuto’s face forms a childish pout. Akaashi knows he’s putting on a mask again, hiding the pain he was starting to show moments ago. Cursing his luck, Akaashi steps out into the gymnasium after Bokuto. He looks visibly relieved that Konoha interrupted them.

“Make sure you hand out the leaflets.” He adds, pointing to the club room and catching Bokuto’s jacket as he haphazardly throws it off of himself. “And do not, I repeat, do not hurt yourself today.”

While Bokuto gets immersed into his volleyball practice, Akaashi muses about what could be bothering Bokuto about the training camp. If he’s getting away from his family, there’s really no reason he should be bothered about it. But Akaashi doesn’t know what’s making Bokuto reluctant.

The food? No, Bokuto was capable of inhaling the entire dining hall, table and all. The baths? No, Bokuto had breakdanced around the club room almost completely naked only a few days ago. The beds? Out of the question. Bokuto could sleep on a bed of rocks if he was exhausted enough.

Akaashi has no idea, much to his frustration.

“Hey hey hey~! I’m the best!”

Bokuto loudly praises himself and leaps into the air, arms waving about wildly. Volleyball is what makes him so gleeful all the time, and it’s what brought Akaashi and him together. Bokuto shines the most when he’s playing volleyball. He’s a star, drawing everyone’s attention onto him.

“Akaashi, I want more!” Bokuto demands extra spikes, even after everyone else gets ready to head home. “Come on, just a few more spikes! Please?” He claps his hands together, bowing his head as if he’s the underclassman. “Ten! Just ten more?”

Akaashi decides against scolding him for disregarding his injured shoulder. Instead he directs his attention to the stacks of paper in the club room, organised and ready to be handed out. “I told you, they need to be given to everyone participating in the training camp.”

“Whip him into shape, Akaashi!” Konoha exclaims, waving his face towel around and smacking Bokuto’s cheek with it.

Bokuto lets out a disgusted shriek, making spitting gestures and wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Gross, dude! I don’t want your sweaty towel in my face!” He screeches, and proceeds to throw his own towel at Konoha after wiping his arm with it.

“You nasty ass bastard!”

Bokuto grabs the permission slips and information leaflets, smacking Konoha’s face with it as he throws them around for everyone to bring home. “Hand them into me by Monday, okay?” He’s met with groans, complaining that he should have handed them out sooner.

Akaashi shakes his head, silently exiting the gymnasium. He hears noisy, uneven footsteps banging on the wooden floor behind him, and a hand slapping his back with the force of an overexcited dog.

“Akaashi, wait for me! Don’t leave me all lonely!” Bokuto clings onto Akaashi, rubbing his forehead onto Akaashi’s shoulder. Akaashi’s body tenses up, and his arms start throbbing. Bokuto has pushed himself too hard. His eyes have lost their usual shine. He needs rest.

“Let’s go home. It’s going to be late. I’m sure you have things you need to be doing.”

“But I’m so lonely, baby! So lonely!” Bokuto dramatically extends his arms towards Akaashi’s face, and for just one moment, Akaashi wants to kiss him.

He freezes up at the unexpected thought that jabs at his heart. Even though he knows he hasn’t voiced it out, his heart’s hammering in his ribcage like crazy. He feels horrible, sick. Wrong. Like all the things that he’s called.

“You okay?”

Bokuto snaps Akaashi out of his trance, shaking him back into his consciousness. He nods, turning away awkwardly. “Come on, we should get going. See you later, Konoha-san.” He leaves the premises, with Bokuto holding his hand and swinging it around.

For a moment, Akaashi forgets that they’re supposed to be best friends. He forgets how the students in his class stare at him. Forgets how bad he is at pretending he doesn’t have a crush on Bokuto.

“Gosh, Akaashi. You really see through everything, huh?” Bokuto balances his enameled bag on his spiked-up hair, his volleyball keychain swinging about in the air. “You’re like a mind reader. You should act as a lie detector and make other people pay for your services.”

 _Close,_ Akaashi thinks. He’s just an empath, someone who can understand feelings but can’t view thoughts. He’s often wished for something more, when he fails to understand. He doesn’t get any more. All he can do is share the pain somebody carries with them temporarily. If he wants to find out the reasons behind it, he has to rely on his deduction skills.

Bokuto makes small talk on the way home. His smile reminds Akaashi of his youngest brother, innocent and bubbling with zest. Akaashi wouldn’t know better without his powers. He wants to ask why Bokuto can manage to keep smiling while hiding so much. Secretive is a word he never expected to associate with Bokuto.

“Oh yeah, Akaashi. I gotta apologize for something.”

Bokuto clasps his hands anxiously, and Akaashi’s shoulders stiffen. “What is it, Bokuto-san?” He doesn’t want to play the guessing game, although it probably won’t lead him anywhere. He allows Bokuto to speak, his eyes blinking excessively.

“I… can’t go to the movies with you on Saturday. I know you’re looking forward to seeing the film, but I have to help my mom with something. I’m really sorry.”

Akaashi’s expression softens. “Is that all?” He confirms, and Bokuto nods hesitantly.

“Yeah. But you seemed really happy when you saw the trailer, and I didn’t want to ruin it for you.” Bokuto deflated, more upset than Akaashi was.

“It’s fine. We can always go another time.” Akaashi knew he could go by himself if he really wanted to, but he has no intention of doing that. It’s much more entertaining to watch a movie with Bokuto than by himself. “Were you expecting me to get angry over that?”

When the words leave Akaashi’s mouth, he realizes how true it could be. If Bokuto’s been through a hard time, it shouldn’t be a surprise that he anticipates something worse than what will happen. He’s scared, because of something else.

“I, uhm, Akaashi…”

Bokuto stutters over his words, struggling to find the right thing to say. “I just feel bad. I wanted to have fun with you.”

“So do I, Bokuto-san. But it’s not like we’ll have no more free days after this weekend. Hopefully, the movie will still be on after the training camp.” Akaashi reassures him.

“Oh yeah, training camp! I can’t wait to play Karasuno and Nekoma. It’s been way too long since we faced off with Kuroo on the court!” Bokuto’s enthusiasm is real as he talks about the other teams partaking in the training camps. He’s friends with all of the team captains and vice captains, which isn’t really surprising. His communication skills are through the roof.

“Hopefully Kuroo-san won’t cry when we win against his team.” Akaashi jokes, and Bokuto bursts into peals of laughter. “He’ll certainly need to be consoled by Yaku-san or Kenma.” The same could be said for Bokuto during his emo mode, but Akaashi doesn’t mention that.

“Not just Kuroo.” Bokuto flexes his arms, placing his hands on his hips. “We’ll win against all of the other teams too. Your tosses are the best in this universe, after all!”

A swell of pride erupts in Akaashi’s chest. “Of course, Bokuto-san.” He had dreamt of being the setter for Fukurodani ever since he saw Bokuto as a first year. He was a star player, he could tell that the moment he saw the way he flew in the air. His eyes staring at the court like a bird of prey, glistening like honey.

“See ya tomorrow, Akaashi!”

As Bokuto waves him goodbye, his figure grows smaller and smaller as he heads in his own separate way. Akaashi turns and heads to his own estate when Bokuto becomes an unidentifiable speck in the distance. He’ll meet him again very soon, and he won’t have to go through the school timetable because it’ll be a Saturday. He can head straight to the gymnasium, away from the horrible people.

“Welcome back home, Keiji. Your dinner is on the table, okay? You don’t need to heat it up, it’s cold somen noodles.” Akaashi’s mother greets him with today’s menu as soon as she opens the door. It’s her way of saying hello to him after he’s back from school, and Akaashi likes it very much.

He sits down at the table, with Sora swinging his short legs beside him. “Haven’t you eaten your dinner?” He asks, and Sora shakes his head proudly.

“Wanted to wait for you, nii-chan!” Sora squeaks, slurping his noodles and getting the broth all over the white table. Akaashi wipes the droplets off with a cloth, pushing the bowl closer to Sora.

“You didn’t have to.” Akaashi points out calmly, dipping the thin white noodles into his cold broth. There are ice cubes inside the cup, cooling the noodle soup down. Tomato, cucumber, ham and egg slices decorate the noodles in the bowl. The cool sensation in his mouth is heavenly.

“But I wanted to! You’d be lonely if you had to eat all by yourself, nii-chan!”

His mother calls after him when he cleans up his plate and places it into the dishwasher. “Keiji, come here.” She places a hand on his shoulder, and Akaashi can sense her concern. “You look tired. Are you feeling sick?”

“What? No. I’m fine.” Akaashi’s slightly taken aback. His mother picks up on a lot of things, even though his expression has been neutral for the whole time he’s been with her. Maybe it’s his neutral face that he needs to work on. “Did I look that tense?”

“If it’s nothing, that’s fine. You’ve been trying so hard at practice lately, I was wondering if your body could keep up with it.” She smiles warmly at him, her cheeks wrinkling with kindness. “Don’t push yourself too hard, alright? You’re my baby, no matter how old you get.”

Akaashi lets out a soft chuckle. “I’m in my late teens, mom. I’m hardly the one that should be getting babied.” He gestures towards Sora, who is currently attempting to redecorate the kitchen table by smearing his food all over it.

“ _Oh my god._ Sora! No! Don’t do that! That’s bad!” His mother rushes over to his youngest brother, yanking him out of his seat to get his hands washed. Sora starts to wail, but she’s been through this with Akaashi and his other siblings. She’s used to it now, and Sora doesn’t stand a chance against her.

Akaashi heads upstairs to his room, his bags hanging from his arm. It’s humid and uncomfortably hot in his room, summer heat crashing into him at full blast. With a groan, Akaashi turns on the air conditioner and waits for it to do its magic.

He pulls out his phone from his bag pocket to text Bokuto. He can’t help but to think about him, and how he has no idea whether anyone looks out for him the way Akaashi’s mother does for him. Akaashi wants to make sure he’s not hurt.

_6:43 Akaashi Keiji_

**Bokuto-san, how are you?**

_6:46 Bokuto-san_

**I’m fine.**

Despite the straight answer Bokuto gives him, Akaashi can’t help but to feel an ominous vibe coming from the text message. He remembers that Bokuto was supposed to have an appointment to get his shoulder checked out. Somehow, he doubts that Bokuto has had a make-up appointment for it.

_6:52 Akaashi Keiji_

**Did you get your shoulder checked out?**

_6:54 Bokuto-san_

**I couldn’t.**

_6:55 Akaashi Keiji_

**Well, will you be visiting a doctor anytime soon?**

_6:57 Bokuto-san_

**Holy shit how do you type so fast**

_7:00 Bokuto-san_

**I can’t really go to any clinics right now.**

Bokuto’s phrasing is what strikes Akaashi as odd. There shouldn’t be any reason as to why Bokuto can’t get the medical help he needs. Unless somebody’s actively preventing him.

_7:02 Akaashi Keiji_

**Bokuto-san, if you’re in pain you need to get your shoulder looked at.**

_7:04 Bokuto Koutarou_

**It doesn’t hurt anymore! I feel great!**

Akaashi heaves a sigh. He wants to believe that there is a small chance that Bokuto is telling the truth, and his shoulder is recovering properly. But from what Akaashi gathers, Bokuto is lying to him again. He certainly isn’t feeling as great as he tells him, but Akaashi’s words don’t make him open up. Maybe actions need to be taken.

Bokuto is there before him the next morning. He waits for Akaashi in the club room, his eyes swimming around as he changes into his uniform. Akaashi feels slightly exposed, but it makes him feel better to think that Bokuto has no shame regarding lack of clothes. It sometimes doesn’t work in Akaashi’s favour, though.

“Bokuto-san, have you gathered the money for the training camp?”

Bokuto jumps, then starts to laugh nervously. “Not yet, actually. Can it be tomorrow?” Akaashi gives him a look that could freeze the equator over. “Aw, come on! It’s a whole day of practice, we should use it!”

“You’ve brought your money, right?” Akaashi asks, and Bokuto averts his gaze. “You have got to be kidding me, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi deadpans. It’s less than a week until they have to send it all in to their coach. “Any chance you can run down and get it from home?”

“My mom will really get mad if I try that.” Bokuto shrivels, and Akaashi’s features harden. “I only brought in three thousand yen. I don’t have enough.”

Something inside Akaashi clicks. “If you want,” he states plainly, “I can lend you the money for today.”

Bokuto lets out a gasp. “I can’t do that, Akaashi! It’s wrong!”

“Why? You can just give it back tomorrow. It’s no big deal.” Akaashi pulls out a thousand yen note before Bokuto answers, and hands it to him. “Besides, it’s more efficient if we gather up all the money for today. There’s less chance of you getting an earful.”

Bokuto begrudgingly accepts the offer. “You use too many complicated words,” he grumbles, as if that was the reason why Akaashi got his offer though to him.

“They’re really not that complicated.”

“Oh, come on Akaashi!” Bokuto throws his jacket behind him, and Akaashi catches it with his arm. “Whatever. Let’s get to practice.”

Thirty minutes into spiking practice, Akaashi notices that Bokuto isn’t spiking in his usual way. He still racks up a fair amount of points, and his emo mode has no sign of appearing. He’s bouncing with energy, but Akaashi’s known him long enough to know that he doesn’t have the same form.

Specifically, Bokuto’s centre of gravity is slightly shifted to the left. Akaashi can still toss to him without many problems, although he has to adjust them a tiny amount. He doesn’t mind, and neither do his other teammates. He decides to keep an eye out on him, still.

“Bokuto-san!”

Akaashi knows Bokuto’s going to aim for a cross spike, and glances at him out the corner of his eye. They widen when he sees what’s under the fluttering t-shirt.

There’s a large purple bruise that has imprinted itself onto his torso, skin swelling painfully. Something has happened again, and Akaashi hadn’t been able to pick up on the signs. He hurriedly falls back into position before a volleyball can pelt him in the face, dread creeping up his throat. He can’t wait for the training camp to commence.

Akaashi wishes that Bokuto had gotten hurt by accident, but a sinister vibe surrounds his upperclassman prone to mystery injuries.

“Akaashi, whatcha lookin’ at?” Bokuto catches him staring. He grins mischievously, swaying his hips in his attempt to look provocative. Instead, it looks absolutely ridiculous. Akaashi cries into his hand. “Are you mesmerized because I look so beautiful?”

Konoha kicks Bokuto’s right leg, just where the kneepad ends. “Stop giving Akaashi grief, for fuck’s sake. You’re not that sexy.”

Akaashi turns away before anybody can see him blushing. He finds Bokuto very attractive, but there’s a time and place for everything. As Bokuto waves his ass around singing a painful rendition of Anaconda, Akaashi’s brain confirms that now is definitely not the time.

“Bokuto-san, your midsection is bruised. What happened to it?” Akaashi asks Bokuto as soon as he catches him on his own. He knows Bokuto doesn’t like being fussed over when it comes to his actual weaknesses, and Akaashi wants to respect his dignity.

Bokuto responds with a laugh. “I bumped it into my desk when I got up this morning! Don’t worry, I didn’t get beaten up or anything. Nobody hates me that much!”

Akaashi wants to believe that. After all, he can’t understand who could ever truly hate Bokuto. He loves his personality, the way he laughs and claps Akaashi on the back. The way everything lights up when he enters a room. The way he pouts when he can’t get a bite of his favourite food.

“You’re telling me the truth, right?” Akaashi brushes his shoulder against Bokuto’s. He feels guilt.

“Of course I am!”

_Lies, lies, lies._

As soon as practice ends and they step outside, Akaashi notices someone staring at them in a way that makes Akaashi’s insides shift. Bokuto is all over him as usual, hugging his shoulder. Akaashi tenses when the student staring at them gives them a look of disgust.

“Are you actually fucking gay, Akaashi?”

Blood rushes to his face, redness reaching the tip of his ears. His stomach is in knots, and he wants to break into a run. He never wanted Bokuto to get caught up into his mess. Now he’s seen and heard it, and Akaashi wants to disappear.

“Hey, hey, hey.”

Akaashi hears his captain’s catchphrase, but it’s less bubbly and much, _much_ more menacing. He can feel the rage in his aura without even having to touch him. Bokuto’s eyes are blazing, his gaze fixating onto the student who just threw Akaashi a comment.

Before Akaashi can urge him to be the bigger person and some other bullshit he was about to make up, Bokuto marches up closer to the second year student and stares at him with an evil, almost predatory eye.

“What sort of shit are you spewing about my setter?”

Bokuto looks like he’s about to throw hands, and Akaashi attempts to stand in between them to stop a fight from taking place. He doesn’t want Bokuto to be banned from his last training camp, or worse, his last Spring High tournament.

“Oh, you’re his captain?” The student sneers, smirking at them both. “You should be careful around him. He might come at your ass. Probably has some sort of disease-“

“The only disease here is you.” Bokuto crosses his arms, his height acting as an advantage. His brows are furrowed, and his bubbly demeanor is nowhere to be seen. Terrified is the only word that can describe how Akaashi is feeling about Bokuto’s raw anger.

“You’re really out here defending this fag?”

Akaashi flinches. “Fuck off.” His voice trembles and he hates it. He hates appearing intimidated. It’s as if he has something shameful to hide, and he starts to wonder if that’s true.

“Akaashi is my best friend. I’m not just going to stand around while you talk shit about him.”

“Or,” the student pauses, sizing up Bokuto. It’s ironic, considering the height and build of the captain. “Is it that you guys are a couple?”

Akaashi’s ears burn, and his cheeks flush with humiliation. “No. Leave him out of this.” His words give him the opposite of what he’s looking for: more unwanted attention. Everything he says is turned against him, just because they can.

“Tell me, does Akaashi like it in the ass?”

His vision starts to blur. He can’t cry now. He needs to hold it in, if he doesn’t want to provide them with more ammunition. But the tears threaten to spill, the more he thinks about it. He keeps his eyes fixed on everyone’s shoes, biting his trembling lip.

“Do you always spend your time assuming that guys with best friends are gay, or is Akaashi somehow a special case? Why can’t you leave him the _fuck_ alone?”

A warm, heavy arm suddenly rests on Akaashi’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go somewhere else.” Bokuto turns on his heels and starts walking in the opposite direction. Akaashi follows him, not paying attention to where they’re walking off to. Hopefully Bokuto knows where he’s going.

“Hey, you okay?”

After a few minutes of strolling around, Bokuto had deemed that it was safe to start talking. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Akaashi. You know they’re just spouting bullshit, right?”

Akaashi nods. He knows, but it doesn’t lessen the dread in his chest every time he gets stared at and insulted. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Bokuto-san. I didn’t want you involved in this.”

They’ve reached some sort of park, and Bokuto plops onto the grass with an ‘oomf’. Akaashi sinks down beside him with a drawn-out sigh. His attention shifts to the other people in the park, enjoying their weekend outside.

Children and their parents have picnic sheets spread out under them as they eat rice balls and octopus-shaped sausages. Some of the children are playing in the sand pit with their plastic buckets, laughing as they make sand castles. One toddler trips over the wooden enclosure and starts to wail.

“Akaashi, you have to tell someone about this. It’s- it’s not something that should be happening. Maybe you don’t wanna make a big deal out of this, I dunno- but I can’t stand it. They’re horrible to you.”

Bokuto is genuinely upset. Akaashi wraps his arms around him uncertainly, and he feels like crying. No, he _is_ crying. He can’t swallow the lump in his throat, swelling up until he has to let his emotions out.

He isn’t supposed to be crying. He’s already broken down once in front of Bokuto, he doesn’t need to do it again. This was why he couldn’t ever help Bokuto. He was being a burden instead of a best friend. He was a horrible-

A thumb smaller than his own brushes against the corner of his eye, wiping off a tear. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about anything. You haven’t done anything wrong, you know?” Akaashi hiccups, pressing his eyes against Bokuto’s shoulder.

“I’m sick of it,” Akaashi whispers, “I’m sick of being told I’m disgusting. As if I don’t get enough of that everywhere I look. It’s just tiring, every day.”

“But you’re _not_ disgusting! You’re one of the best people I’ve ever been lucky enough to meet. I don’t have a big enough vocabulary to explain it, but you’re really important to me!”

Akaashi bites the inside of his cheek. “Even if…” he hesitates, fearing for the worst. “Even if it’s true? Even if I’m really attracted to guys?”

Bokuto blinks at him, seemingly pondering over what Akaashi is implying. “Akaashi, my opinion on you won’t change based on who you’re attracted to. Unless it’s the prime minister or something, then I’d be kinda concerned. There’s nothing wrong with being gay!”

“I’m bi, but thank you.” Akaashi’s lips break into a smile. He wipes his tears hastily, not wanting to be seen crying any longer. “It makes me glad to know that.”

“Wait, Akaashi, you know I’m gay, right?”

Akaashi’s eyes rounded so much they stung. “No. Well, now I do.” He has trouble processing the information that’s hit him like an asteroid, but really, it makes him happy. He’s not the only one. Statistically, he knows that already, but it doesn’t feel like that anymore.

He elbows Bokuto’s arm lightly but repeatedly. “You _really_ could have told me that a few moments earlier,” he mumbles, turning away. He’s turning noticeably red, much to his dismay. “But thank you for sharing that.”

“I thought you knew. Sorry!” Bokuto presses his palms together, grinning sheepishly. “But you’re bi? That’s cool! You like guys and girls! You have a lot of people to choose from! I think it’s great!”

Akaashi gently shushes Bokuto, whose voice is starting to rise up to a crescendo. “Thank you, Bokuto-san. Your sentiment is much appreciated, but you have a rather loud way of expressing it.”

He’s so excited he can barely breathe, but he doesn’t show that. Instead, he listens to Bokuto rambling about ‘having all the fishies in the sea’ and whatnot, fondness kindling inside his heart. He’s hopelessly in love, he’ll admit that to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you all, please comment!  
> Comment!  
> COMMENT  
> please?? ;^^


	7. Melting Golden Ray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto can almost imagine it. The warm, soothing embrace that always calmed him as an upset child. The hands that caressed his untamable hair. He wants it, from the one person he’ll never get it from.
> 
> So he pretends. His arms aren’t his own. They’re someone else’s, whispering to him that everything will be all right. They give him the comfort he can’t provide for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 updates in 2019? Someone murder my clone.  
> Nah jk, I promised myself to be more productive, it's working.

Bokuto’s shoulder throbs to his heartbeat. His doctor had suggested painkillers to help cope with the pain, but it’s not working for him. He’s been losing sleep, falling behind on assignments from the constant pain distracting him. His eyes burn as he fixes his gaze on the ceiling, counting the seconds that pass and calculating how much sleep he can get if he falls asleep right that second.  

He knows not to bother his parents. His tactic of injuring himself under the guise of clumsiness only worked when he was in middle school, when they would immediately stop fighting and rush to treat him. But now, they’re low on money and don’t care about him much.  

It’s a fact that hurts his heart, but a fact he’s been trying to accept nonetheless. His father often spends money unwisely and takes out his frustration on him by berating him. His mother picks both of them apart for everything they do, often screaming that they’re no good and breaking household objects.

The warmth that used to surround his family is no more.  

So Bokuto waits until the incessant complaints about money finally dwindles. He knows being in pain for weeks isn’t normal, but he can’t confirm anything if he can’t visit a doctor. It’s an evening without his father, who is off on a business trip. He hasn’t heard any screaming so far.  

“Mom, I want to go to the appointment. My shoulder hurts.” Bokuto mumbles. He’s already missed two appointments, and nothing has gotten better. “I’ll help you with anything. Please,”

His mother stares at him with a piercing glare, and he flinches. “Don’t you know we’re low on money right now, Koutarou? Doctor appointments are costly. Do you have any idea how much stress I’m under right now?”

 _Shit _,__ he thinks. This wasn’t a good time, he realises too late. “I understand. I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I just-”

“You’re already in third year. Don’t you ever think about helping yourself on your own for a change?” Bokuto bites his lip, anticipating another lecture. “This is your problem. You don’t think about the burden you place on this family.”

_Burden _._ _

Bokuto can feel himself crumble. He wasn’t valuable to her anymore, he could tell. He would have done something, anything, if it would repair the bond between his family. But he didn’t have a clue. A few years ago, Bokuto would greet his mother with a hug every time he came home, tossing his bag aside in the hallway. Now, he focused on not being heard when he opened the front door.

“This is what happens when you’re too dependent. You can’t survive on your own.”

Bokuto wants to prove her wrong. He could survive without his parents, if he tried a little harder. If he had the right opportunities and a well-paid job. He could do it. But really, he can’t prove her wrong. He needs to rely on his parents to survive. He’s no good without the people around him.

He slinks off, and heads to his room when he’s not called back. The wave of helplessness that he’d swallowed back washes over him. He’s alone, inside his home. He’s invisible.

The thoughts that form inside Bokuto can’t be articulated. An intangible mass sits in his chest, eating away at the positive demeanour he struggles to put on. He wants to cry it out. Tears, washing away that dirty, fake layer. Exposing his tender core that he refuses to let anyone go near.

His arms curl around his middle, enveloping him in a hug. He tries to imagine someone there with him. Reassuring him that it’s okay to cry. That he won’t be judged for showing his emotions. That it wasn’t his fault his family was splitting apart.

“Mom.”

_Koutarou _._ _

Bokuto can almost imagine it. The warm, soothing embrace that always calmed him as an upset child. The hands that caressed his untamable hair. He wants it, from the one person he’ll never get it from.

So he pretends. His arms aren’t his own. They’re someone else’s, whispering to him that everything will be all right. They give him the comfort he can’t provide for himself.

Hours pass as he stays absolutely still, only breathing and contemplating. Bokuto’s head pounds, as if he’s been crying. He wishes that were the case. He would feel more normal, and less like a disease. If only he had the power to lift himself up.

The next day, Bokuto gets mercilessly questioned by Akaashi. Of course Akaashi has to always notice what’s wrong with him. He seems to always know when he’s upset. Bokuto had even spilled the details of his appointments, despite himself.  

He’s sure his demeanour is perfectly bubbly, but Akaashi is the personification of a lie detector. It’s almost scary, how he can see right through his blinding exterior. But he can’t possibly actually read minds, Bokuto assures himself. He’s never been a believer of superpowers, and if he were a mind reader, they would have won nationals last year.

_I… can’t go to the movies with you on Saturday. I know you’re looking forward to seeing the film, but I have to help my mom with something. I’m really sorry._

Akaashi didn’t get angry at him, even though he cancelled his plans like an irresponsible idiot. He’d forget dates, tests and even his jobs as a captain, but he never forgets anything Akaashi-related. Maybe he’s being selective, but he isn’t trying to be that way. He only wants the best for his setter.

Then, why does his father take him apart?

“You’re incredibly careless. Why do you make things harder for us at such a hard time? I’m the one who gets the worst of your mother. Don’t make it hard for me to love you, too.”

If Bokuto’s father teaches him only one thing, it’s that he’s a difficult child. Scatterbrained, lazy, would lose his head if it weren’t attached to him. Always wants and never gives back. Ungrateful for the privileges he’s given.

“I’m trying the best I can.” Bokuto grips his hands into fists, indignation filling his eyes. “I really am. I’ll help you guys with anything, I promise.”

His father’s glacial stare shuts him down. “I don’t like that look you’re giving me. If you really want to help us, then why don’t you get a job instead of focusing on that pathetic volleyball club?”

Bokuto swallows down his emotions, desperately struggling to keep a neutral face. “Volleyball is important to me, dad. I’ll get a sport scholarship if I try. I’ll repay everything once I get into college.”

The thought of college is daunting. He doesn’t have a clue what he wants to do besides volleyball, if his only plan fails. He’s not good at retaining information and throwing it back up onto a piece of paper. The right words don’t come to him when he needs to write up a report.

“Volleyball costs money. Especially training camps. I’ve heard you have one coming up soon.” His father reaches into his pocket, taking out his wallet. “Don’t ever forget that we’re the ones who pay for all this, Koutarou. I think you need to be more grateful with what you have.”

“I know.” Bokuto can’t argue with his father. Everything will get turned against him, he’s known that for quite some time now. “It’s the last one, I promise. I just need the money for it.”

He’s met with the shake of a head. “You need to stop thinking with your emotions. You have no control over them. You’re almost as bad as your mother.”

“Don’t say that about mom!” Bokuto blinks back the tears in his eyes. Something grows inside his chest, rage threatening to spill out any moment. His parents don’t love each other anymore, but he hates it coming out of their mouths. She was still his mother, who he’d said “I love you,” to, countless times.

“Shut up, you bipolar piece of _shit_!”

Raised voice. Bokuto flinches, but his father isn’t like his mother. He doesn’t throw things or hit him. But the wound is carved deep inside his stomach. Whether it’s noticeable on the outside or not, it doesn’t matter.

He’s choking. He’ll spill if he opens his mouth. No crying in his household. He’ll be in trouble because he’s a nuisance, and he’s a nuisance because he can’t ever control himself. Tremors rattle him, fear twisting his expression. The floorboards are spinning.

When something presses against his palm, Bokuto jumps. “Take it. And know your place.” He doesn’t dare look down at his hand until his father leaves. There are a couple of thousand yen notes, crumpled into his sweating palm.

He hadn’t thanked him. _Ungrateful _.__  The word echoes in his head like a cursed chime. It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help it. He was just scared of the consequences. He repeats to himself over and over again, convincing his mind to stop blaming him.

Bokuto counts how much he has, as soon as he retreats to his room. Dread rushes into him at once. It’s not enough. He needs a whole one thousand yen more to pay for the training camp. He can’t ask for more. He needs to be grateful for what he gets. Others have it so much worse than him. He’s one of the lucky ones.

But he can’t delay it any longer, or else Akaashi will be disappointed. He’s meant to be the responsible third year captain. He can’t be the one dragging everyone down because he can’t pay his expenses.

He’s stuck, but there’s another problem on his mind now.

A hungry groan rises from the pit of his stomach. His appetite begging to be satisfied, Bokuto reluctantly heads back into the kitchen. It’s relatively quiet, and he can’t sense the air of conflict around him. He pokes his head in, looks around a bit and nods. Safe.

He reaches for a tupperware container full of fried noodles, then stops. If that’s his parents’ food, he would risk getting into more trouble for eating their food without permission. Heaving a sigh, he settles for a cup of instant noodles instead.

It’s the third time this week. Bokuto reaches for the kettle and boils some water, already knowing he’s chipping away at his health. He’s consumed so much artificial flavourings and fats that he may as well be forcing his own stomach to digest its own lining.

There is a leek and some frozen vegetables in the kitchen. It won’t do much, but it’ll be a lot less of an unhealthy dinner if he adds some vitamin-rich foods and throws away the broth. He chops up the leek and thaws the frozen vegetable mix, assembling some instant vegetable ramen for himself.

As Bokuto pours the noodles and vegetables into a large patterned bowl, he fans himself as the scalding hot steam blows into his face. The air conditioner in the room beside him is off, and for a good reason. He’s the only one around, and there’s no reason to pile on the electricity bill.

Admittedly, the noodles taste good. They squish under his teeth and slide down his throat, soaked with thinned soy sauce-based broth. The leeks and carrots turn soft and melt in his mouth from sitting in the steamy bowl. It’s filling too, and he feels comfortably full. His upset is replaced with a pleasant warmth.

Bokuto’s gaze shifts to a purse on the table when he finishes eating. It looks like his mother’s, judging from the feminine design and colour. He’s sure there’s at least one thousand yen in there. Depending on how much money there was, he wouldn’t get caught if he decided to take just a small amount.

He shuts down the horrible thought. No matter how desperate he is, stealing from his parents is something he can never do. It’s morally wrong, ungrateful. But at the same time, he’s curious. He won’t take anything. Just a glance, to see if his mother might lend him some.

His hand extends towards the purse slowly.

He opens his ears for footsteps, and hears none. He reaches for the zipper without daring to breathe. The curiosity is too much for him to not take the opportunity. _Just open it _,__ he hisses mentally to himself. _It’s not like you’re stealing anything._

He can’t do it. His hand draws back, reluctance taking over his decision. It knocks into something, and a splash follows.

When Bokuto realises it’s the ramen bowl that he knocked over, he pales. _Shit, shit, shit._ Panic takes him unexpectedly, and he scrambles for a rag to clean up the mess. The leftover broth spills all over the table, drenching the newspaper and his mother’s purse.

His mother’s purse. It doesn’t look waterproof, and he can imagine the soy sauce leaving a brown stain on the white material. He opens up the zip hastily, taking out all of the paper bills. Luckily, most of them are completely unharmed. He notes that there’s definitely more than a thousand yen, but he has other priorities now.

“Koutarou, what are you doing with that?”

Bokuto glances at his mother fearfully, and then down at himself. “I spilled the ramen onto your purse. It wasn’t on purpose, I swear!” He knows it looks like something else, but doesn’t defend himself before he’s accused. He’s in an incredibly misleading position.

His mother snatches the bills out of his hand, counting them as she moves her purse out of harm’s way. “You stop lying. You always disappoint me, Koutarou. I can’t ever trust you with anything!”

She grabs him roughly by the collar, her voice trembling. Bokuto’s side slams against the table from the force. He winces, pain spreading through his abdomen. It’s a widespread ache, but not deep inside him. It’s only going to bruise, and fade after some days.

Bokuto knows all of that in his head. He knows he doesn’t have anything to cry about, but his throat burns with unexpressed tears. He isn’t a liar, he isn’t. “I didn’t take any money. I swear, I didn’t!” He protests his innocence loudly, but his cries fall onto deaf ears.

“Empty out your pockets.”

As soon as Bokuto’s hands roam down to turn his pockets inside out, his stomach drops. The money his father had given him is still in there. He’s going to be punished. He needs his father to prove that he’s not a disgusting thief.

“Well?” His mother demands impatiently. As Bokuto shakily opens his palms to reveal a couple of notes, she grabs his wrist and digs her fingers into his skin. Her nails scratch against him, drawing out a hiss from him. “Obviously, you’re lying. You’re a failure, stealing money from your parent.”

“I got these from dad! You can even ask him!” Bokuto argues back, gripping the money tighter. He knows his father can back him up. After all, he’s the one who put it into his hand. “It’s not a lie! I’m not lying, mom! I would never lie to you!”

“Can’t both of you ever give me peace?”

It was his father. He stood at the doorway, glaring at the arguing mother and son. “Stop making so much noise. You’re both a disturbance.”

“Dad!” Bokuto scuttled up to him, thrusting the money into his face. “You gave this to me, right? Tell her I’m not lying!” He swung his head back at his mother indignantly, his chest swelling with relief.

“I gave him that money. Now shut up, both of you. I gave Koutarou five thousand.” He stated, turning on his back to get out of the dispute.

Bokuto counted the notes in his hand nervously. He had been gripping six thousand yen, but he could swear that he hadn’t taken any from his mother. “Dad, you gave me six thousand. Remember?” He’d counted multiple times in his room. The trip to Shinzen costed seven thousand, and he had one thousand less than what he needed.

“Nobody cares. If I gave you that much, then I did. Stop involving me in all this shit.”

“You’re a liar. Get out of my sight, Koutarou.”

Bokuto obliges wordlessly, not bothering to claim that he didn’t steal anything. He knows it won’t do anything good for him. It burns his chest, the unfairness of it all. He feels childish. He marches up the stairs, imagining himself throwing himself onto the floor and screaming his lungs out.

He would cry about how much he wanted his old family back. How much he wanted to be believed. How much he wanted to be loved by his parents and told that he was their everything.

But he isn’t seven anymore. He isn’t allowed to cry over something so trivial. A voice inside his heart cruelly reminds him that he _did_ think about opening his mother’s purse. There’s no guarantee that he wouldn’t have taken any money, apart from his own self insisting that he wasn’t that low.

Perhaps he did get what was coming to him. It has to be his fault. If it isn’t, he figures he would be getting yelled at way less.

_His fault. His fault. His fault._

He doesn’t sleep much that night. He doesn’t remember everything that his mother said, but he distinctly remembers what his father called him. _Bipolar _.__ He isn’t even sure what it means exactly, but he knows it shouldn’t be said to anyone.

Bokuto is abnormal. He can’t behave correctly like everyone else he knows. He’s too obnoxious, too stupid to understand what he needs to change about himself. He wishes he were more like Akaashi.

Akaashi puts up with him, puts up with his mood swings, emo modes and everything else that would drive a setter away. He sticks with him after practice till he’s heaving over a sink with exhaustion. And somehow, he’s best friends with him.

Thinking about Akaashi comforts Bokuto. He doesn’t like to think about the possibilities of Akaashi secretly being fed up with him, so he focuses on the positive. He closes his eyes, pictures himself on the court with Akaashi. His hand slams into the volleyball Akaashi set for him, and blasts right past three blockers.

He hears the Fukurodani students screaming and cheering at the number on his back. He’s the ace, bursting through every wall and leading his teammates to victory. His palm slaps against Akaashi’s, and everything feels so right, and-

It’s morning, shining through his curtains and attacking his eyelids. A dream or an elaborate fantasy created by himself, he can’t tell. His body is refreshed from the deep sleep. He can feel the energy in his bones, replenished from the amount of sleep he had. If only his heart were as light as his body.

A Saturday means a lie-in for some, but for Bokuto, it means an entire day of practice. It’s the best way he can imagine spending the day, bantering with his teammates and spiking Akaashi’s tosses. If there’s something he’ll enjoy more than that, he doesn’t know its existence.

Practice rolls around, and Akaashi ends up lending him money and noticing his bruise from slamming into the table within a few hours. He’d arrived earlier on purpose to have the club room to himself, so nobody would see his skin exposed when he changed clothes. It’s as if Akaashi has been there with him yesterday, only because he’d wished for his presence so greatly.

His own problems are cast aside, when he hears somebody insult Akaashi. He hates the way Akaashi’s voice cracks as he holds back his tears. He would have loved to strangle the student who dared to make Akaashi cry, but his self-control overruled his instincts. Really, he had decided that being there for Akaashi was more important than throwing hands and acting irresponsibly.

Bokuto also learns that Akaashi is bisexual. He’s attracted to guys, just like him.

“Does being bi mean you’re half gay and half straight, or is it an uneven mix?”

Akaashi snorts at his question. “It depends on the individual, Bokuto-san. Attraction isn’t a mathematical equation. You can’t split it in half.”

Bokuto scratches at the back of his head sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry. That was a stupid question.” He takes a mental note to research more about it when he gets home. He’s surprised by how little he knows about the LGBT community, despite being in it.

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t know much either if I weren’t bi.” Akaashi shrugs. “We don’t learn this at school.”

“Well, we should. It’d save a lot of confusion for us poor, non-straight students.”

“You know,” Akaashi says. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. They might start comparing us to magnets or plants.”

Bokuto bursts into laughter at Akaashi’s witty comment. “Dude, they’d just start going all ‘You can be attracted to the N pole or the S pole.’ It’d be the worst comparison ever.”

“They should use the periodic table. As well as gallium yttrium, there’s bismuth.” Akaashi points out, and it takes some time before Bokuto catches onto his joke and starts to chuckle. Bokuto loves Akaashi’s sense of humour. Quick, sarcastic and intelligent, just like him. His heart swells with pride when he reminds himself that Akaashi is his best friend.

Bokuto doesn’t pay attention to his mother’s cutting words or the arguments going on downstairs that night. He’s too excited to care for whatever they’re screaming over. Akaashi is like him. He can barely breathe with his heart humming in his throat. Although he longs to rant about everything that happened to Kuroo, he resists the urge to pick up his phone and dial his number. It’s Akaashi’s privacy, after all. He knows to respect it.

But it won’t be long before he and Kuroo will start to chant “One of us, one of us,” while circling around Akaashi.

Although it isn’t easy, Bokuto manages to gather a thousand yen to give back Akaashi. He’d resorted to pleading his father for lunch money, which he never spent and kept aside until he scraped together enough of it. Hunger pains attack his midsection by the time the week ends, but it’s worth it.

“Alright, get some sleep on the bus. You’re in for a long day.”

As the Fukurodani volleyball club members are ushered onto the bus, Bokuto yawns and straightens his posture to prevent himself from passing out. He hasn’t slept well, from the mixture of hunger and exhaustion. He wishes the bus ride to Saitama were longer, so he could actually get a good few hours of rest.

“Bokuto! Catch this!”

Konoha throws pocky at Bokuto, and it splits unevenly when he tries to catch it. “Here, Akaashi! You can have half!” He offers the short biscuit end to Akaashi, giggling maniacally.

“Bokuto-san, how very kind of you.” Akaashi deadpans, but he takes the pocky stick anyway. Bokuto grins and eats his longer piece bit by bit, and Konoha hurls the empty pocky box at Bokuto’s head.

“Gah!”

As Konoha shoves the remainder of the pocky into his mouth and cackles, Bokuto’s head tilts to the side so that he can lean against Akaashi’s shoulder. “Konoha is being mean to me,” he pouts, sticking out his lower lip.

Akaashi tuts, shaking his head with a wry smirk. “Konoha-san, I do not condone this type of violent behaviour. Perhaps a few deep breaths will help you.”

Bokuto’s laugh explodes out of him as Konoha lets out an incredulous “Oi! Watch what you say, Akaashi!” He knows it’s all in good humour, and he treasures the atmosphere that lets them all act like teenagers, without the weird senpai-kouhai hierarchy.

“Perhaps you should get some rest, Bokuto. You look tired.” Washio points out, noticing the lack of sparkle in Bokuto’s eyes. Akaashi nods in agreement, nudging him with his shoulder to coax him into quietening down.

“Nooo! I want to talk to you guys! Bus rides are one of the best parts of training camps!”

Akaashi rolls his eyes, rubbing his temple with his fingers. “You can talk as much as you want before we go to sleep. How about we enjoy the ride in silence for now?”

Bokuto lets out a whine of protest, but everyone around him closes their eyes and Akaashi silently pressures Bokuto to do the same. With a defeated huff, Bokuto curls into Akaashi and starts to doze off with his face pressed against his shoulder.

A peaceful atmosphere surrounds them, as the bus is driven slowly on the road. There aren’t many twists and turns, and it’s a comfortable ride aside from the occasional bump that nobody minds. The quiet hum of the engine is enough to lull the students into a state of rest.

However, the easy, gentle part of the ride ends as soon as the bus avoids the motorway and takes the alternative hilly route. Bokuto feels like he’s being tossed around in a blender, the bus jolting and speeding up every few seconds. Even then, some of his teammates are still sleeping. He can’t believe it.

Now that he’s awake and uncomfortably alert, he’s quick to realise that he doesn’t like the way the paths twist and drop. He lets out a groan, hugging his midsection and shifting closer to Akaashi. He wants the comfort of his best friend.

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi notices him squirming and fidgeting, trying to get his mind off the persistent discomfort in him. “Are you alright? You look pale.” Akaashi cocks an eyebrow, his hand reaching out to grab Bokuto’s. Bokuto frowns when his fidgeting is forcibly stopped, forcing him to meet Akaashi’s gaze.

“The ride’s making me feel weird and I don’t like it,” Bokuto whines, squeezing Akaashi’s hand tightly. He hates feeling motion sick. It’s not supposed to happen. He attempts to distract himself by thinking about training camp, but the added clutter in his brain worsens his state of misery.

Akaashi tuts. “You’re feeling sick from the bumpy ride,” he states plainly, handing Bokuto a bottle of water. “You need to hydrate yourself. How much have you been sleeping lately?”

“Less.” Bokuto answers truthfully before he can even register the question. Akaashi pinpoints everything that’s bothering him, squeezing information out of him whether he likes it or not.

“Any particular reason why?” Akaashi takes the bottle from Bokuto and uncaps it, moving one of his arms around Bokuto.

Bokuto takes a few careful sips of water. He can feel the rush of liquid spilling down to his stomach, and he drinks more hoping for relief. “I was busy lately. Exams.”

He’d studied for his exams this time, seeing as he was a third year. There was no time for him to be slacking off. He stayed up until the next day to skim over notes and solve questions from his textbooks. But despite everything, he’d failed math.

It hadn’t been easy convincing his parents and teachers that he could still go to the training camp. With some tutoring from Washio and Konoha, Bokuto had passed his make-up exams before he was left behind by his teammates. He’s lucky enough to be able to be on the bus to Saitama, but not lucky enough to have a comfortable journey.

“Try to rest now, then. We still have time before we arrive at our destination, Bokuto-san.”

The exams weren’t the only reason why Bokuto has had a rough sleep schedule. He doesn’t feel safe when he closes his eyes. His ears tune into everything around him when he’s enveloped in darkness. He hears things that he doesn’t want to, until his own thoughts are loud enough to drown them out.

“Yeah.”

He’s safe with Akaashi. His shoulder is a comfortable spot for him to lay his head onto, and the rhythmic pats on his back reminds him of his heartbeat. He’s wrapped in warmth, like a blanket shielding him from everything unpleasant. Akaashi will keep him safe.

Bokuto drops off to sleep peacefully, growing limp in his seat. Akaashi holds him to his heart’s content, free from stares. They haven’t cuddled like this in so long, and it reminds them how dear to each other they are. Bokuto could just float away with him, melting into the summer heat. It’s a moment of tranquility just between them, right before the rowdiness of a training camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo. I wanted to highlight that abuse isn't always physical or verbal in this chapter, especially because some behaviour is incredibly hard to notice. Thanks for reading. Until next time.


	8. The Saitama heat burns us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi is woken up by Bokuto’s yelling, and his teammates creating a racket in the bus. Rubbing his temple, Akaashi realises that they’re not moving anymore. He catches sight of Shinzen high school, their destination. His teammates are already jostling at each other to get off the bus, and Bokuto is tugging on Akaashi’s arm expectantly.
> 
> “Come on, Akaashi! Training camp, training camp!” 
> 
> It's the sound of summertime training camp commencing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!  
> It's me again. I hope you guys are still here!  
> First off, I wanna apologize. This chapter has some canon events going on, so it may be a little predictable, but I promise it'll get more entertaining soon! Have fun, and don't forget to leave a comment!

Akaashi is woken up by Bokuto’s yelling, and his teammates creating a racket in the bus. Rubbing his temple, Akaashi realises that they’re not moving anymore. He catches sight of Shinzen high school, their destination. His teammates are already jostling at each other to get off the bus, and Bokuto is tugging on Akaashi’s arm expectantly.

“Come on, Akaashi! Training camp, training camp!”

Bokuto bounces around, the spitting image of Sora after he’s had too much cola. Akaashi can’t help the fond smile that tugs at his lips. He gazes at his captain, who he compares his baby brother with. He has the same protective urge he gets around his siblings, as well as a dash of adoration and romantic sparks.

“Hinata! Hey hey!”

Bokuto grabs the Karasuno first year by his hips, swinging him around like Akaashi’s dad used to do to him. “Bokuto-san! It’s been a while!” Hinata lets out an enthusiastic giggle, thoroughly enjoying getting tossed around like a sack of potatoes.

“Hard to believe you were motion sick twenty minutes ago, Bokuto.” Konoha remarks, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

Bokuto responds by blowing a raspberry at him, making a childish face that shows his teeth. “Shut up! I’m fine now!”

“Bokuto-san, you get motion sick too? I’ve vomited on Tanaka-san’s lap before!” Hinata chimes in, a little too eager to overshare. Bokuto makes fake retching noises, and the rest of the team pulls disgusted faces at him in response.

Akaashi stifles a laugh into his palm. “Bokuto-san, please refrain from making such crude noises.” He swats him on the back of his head lightly, eliciting a silly noise from him. “You’re the captain, after all. You should be setting an example.”

“Nooooo! You're the setter here! You _set_ an example!” Bokuto groans, deepening his voice excessively. He imitates _The Scream_ by placing his hands on his cheeks and opening his eyes wide, looking quite foolish in the process. Akaashi snorts at the horrible pun and huffs, making his way over to the school building.

Kuroo grabs Akaashi from behind, before he senses his presence. “Who do we have here? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He chuckles, his awful bedhead as unruly as ever. “You’ve grown so much, haven’t you?”

Akaashi rolls his eyes in response to Kuroo, who acts like an old man who has known him since he was in diapers. “You’re like an annoying uncle at this point, Kuroo-san.” Kuroo grins at him, his lips like a cheshire cat. “Though… You’ve recently proven yourself tolerable.”

“Bro!”

Bokuto squeals as soon as he catches sight of Kuroo, dashing up to him and engulfing him in a bear hug. Kuroo lets out a guttural screech, Bokuto’s muscular frame squeezing him so hard he’s choking.

“Hey, asshead. I’m trying to breathe over here.” Kuroo groans, but there’s no malice in his voice. He ruffles Bokuto’s owl-hair, bumping shoulders lightly with him. “Haven’t seen you in forever. Looking hyper as ever, huh?”

“We need to move our stuff. We’ll beat you soon.” Akaashi jabs at Kuroo before he gently pries Bokuto away from him, flashing him a lopsided grin. “Shall we go, Bokuto-san?”

Kuroo narrows his eyes at him. “Damn brat. You jealous of our relationship? Our bromance?"

"Please kindly don't use that word in my presence, ever again." Akaashi grimaces, and Kuroo blows him a kiss. “Pain-in-the-ass feral cat.”

Once all their bags are placed in the bedroom, the matches finally commence. Bokuto is bouncing off the walls, completely recovered from his mini-slump in the bus. Akaashi breathes a sigh of relief, catching Bokuto’s jacket when he chucks it haphazardly.

“We’re aiming for no penalties! Let’s do this!”

Bokuto radiates energy, spreading throughout the entire court. He draws everyone’s attention when he spikes, whether he intends to or not. He’s even more excited, now that Hinata and Kageyama are there from the start.

“No penalties? I don’t know about that.” Akaashi shrugs, but when he’s with Bokuto, it almost seems possible. He’s his star, after all. He hasn’t been following him all this time just for fun.

“Bring it on! Hey hey hey!”

Bokuto’s hand slams into the volleyball over and over again. Akaashi worries about his shoulder, but Bokuto doesn’t show any signs of pain or discomfort. He spikes and spikes, each yell of glee louder than the last.

“Hey, Akaashi. Have you seen Karasuno today?”

They lay on the grass, heads resting on their palms. The quiet scent of night air floats between them, softly blowing through their hair.

“Yeah. They were a little uncoordinated. The libero was attempting a toss, but he didn’t succeed. And Kageyama’s tosses weren’t the best. The weirdo quick duo weren’t in top form, either.” Akaashi comments. “But I guess it’s because they’re still assembling themselves.”

Bokuto gives a hearty laugh. “They did lose all their matches. Felt bad for them, actually. Glasses guy seemed like he was going to pass out towards the end.”

“Glasses guy?” Akaashi recalls. “He’s the tall one, right?”

Bokuto nods. “He’ll get good. I guarantee it.” His grin widens, and he lifts himself off the grass by swinging his body upwards. “He just needs to find his volleyball passion!”

“Volleyball passion.” Akaashi had found that in his third year of middle school. He’d played it safe all the time, picking up volleyball simply because it intrigued him. It was interesting enough for him to keep at it, but he didn’t believe he had the potential to get anywhere close to nationals.

That was until he saw Bokuto Koutarou.

His breath had been stolen as soon as he saw Bokuto soar for the first time. He was a star, destined to shine in the middle of the galaxy. Akaashi immediately knew where he wanted to go for high school. Fukurodani Academy, to get closer to the glittering spiker. Even if he only got to toss to him during practice after school.

Now, he's best friends with the spiker he once regarded as unreachable. It makes all the days of collapsing from exhaustion worth it. He was Bokuto's setter, his partner on the court. His chest stings when he reminds himself it's just for another few months.

“He'll find it soon! I know it!”

When Bokuto says that, Akaashi can't help thinking that he's right. “I'm sure of it, Bokuto-san. Would you like to head over to the third gym?”

Bokuto visibly lights up at Akaashi's suggestion. “Yeah! I want Kuroo to block for me!” He drags Akaashi up by the arm, ushering him over to the main buildings. “Come on, let’s go!”

Giggles erupted from Bokuto like fireworks. Akaashi was in love with the way he glowed excitement, and jogged behind him as he raced to the gymnasium. Night began to fall, but the day was far from over.

“Hey hey hey! We’re here!”

Bokuto threw open the gymnasium doors, adding dramatic flair to his actions. When Akaashi peers inside, he notices Lev flopped on the floor and Kuroo elbowing him on the shoulder. It’s the aftermath of Nekoma’s demonic receive practices.

“Kuroo-san, have mercy on me! I’ve already done two hundred!” Lev wails, his face pressed onto the wooden floor. “I’m gonna die! My arms are gonna fall off!”

“Too bad! Get up and keep at it!” Kuroo yanks Lev up by his sweaty arm, turning to Akaashi and Bokuto. “Oh hey, it’s you guys. What, did your team give up on Bokuto’s stamina already?”

“They’ve all run away to Okinawa. I have no idea when they will come back,” Akaashi deadpans, picking up a volleyball and tossing it between his hands. “Should we get started, then?”

Kuroo extends a hand in front of Akaashi, shushing him. “Wait a moment. Is that the Karasuno glasses guy I see?”

Akaashi peeks outside, and sure enough, it’s him. He doesn’t seem to be heading towards any gymnasium, which is unsurprising. His lack of enthusiasm leads Akaashi to believe that he’s probably going to take a bath and sleep.

“I’m gonna go invite him.” Kuroo whispers.

“What? Tonight? He won’t-”

“Do it, bro!” Bokuto chimes in, sneaking behind Kuroo.

Kuroo’s grin widens, and Akaashi completely gives up on stopping him. “Watch me,” he saunters out of the gymnasium, calling out to Tsukishima. “Hey, you, Karasuno guy! Glasses!”

Tsukishima halts, glancing at Kuroo and Bokuto. He looks somewhat unimpressed, but can’t say anything too snarky to a third year he hardly knows. So Kuroo goes ahead with his offer.

“Can you jump some blocks for us?” Kuroo beckons with a hand, and Tsukishima’s brows tighten. He isn’t keen on hopping in to practice at night with a bunch of Tokyo high school students.

Tsukishima cracks a smile, purely for the sake of politeness. “I’m actually done for tonight,” he nods his head in their general direction, “if you’ll excuse me.”

“Come on! I can’t spike if there’s no one to block!” Bokuto joins in the conversation, his tone almost begging.

“Can’t it be someone from Fukurodani?”

Akaashi knows that’s not an option. “Bokuto-san doesn’t have a limit when it comes to practicing, so they’ve all escaped,” he explains, as Kuroo and Lev bicker about the latter’s crappy receives and how he won’t be Nekoma’s ace anytime soon.

“Bokuto’s pretty good. He’s actually one of the top five spikers in the country.” Kuroo pokes Bokuto’s shoulder, as if to show him off. Akaashi swallows a surge of pride that erupts inside him. Bokuto hums in approval, impressed with himself.

“But perhaps not the top three?” Tsukishima points out, and Akaashi internally begs to differ. If he were in a good mood and had less slumps in the middle of a match, he could definitely give Ushijima or Kiryuu a run for their money.

Kuroo flashes a taunting grin at Tsukishima. “If you’re a middle blocker, maybe you should start practicing your _blocks_ more, eh?”

Believe it or not, it works. Tsukishima marches up to them and into the gymnasium, and Bokuto flashes a thumbs up at Kuroo. Akaashi takes out the volleyballs from the crate, knowing full well that Bokuto’s palms will slam into all of them.

“Another!”

Akaashi’s positive he’s heard that phrase come from Bokuto’s mouth more than anyone else. He sets ball after ball to him as he slams past Tsukishima’s blocks, and Akaashi admits it looks slightly unfair. Tsukishima has the height, but that’s about it. His arms are thin compared to Bokuto, and he doesn’t have much stamina.

“You’re only winning against one blocker, Bokuto-san.”

“Shut up! Don’t burst my bubble, Akaashi!” Bokuto pouts.

Kuroo hops under the net, joining Tsukishima’s side. “Two now,” he snickers. “Bring it on, beef boy.”

Akaashi sets the ball to Bokuto, who promptly gets his spike read and blocked mercilessly. Kuroo had moved his arms to the right in a split second, predicting Bokuto’s course.

“God dammit!”

Tsukishima and Kuroo let out a short laugh at Bokuto’s anguish. Akaashi saw that one coming, so he isn’t surprised. Kuroo is a master at read blocking, and he’s been practicing with Bokuto for ages. He knows him well.

“Ya know, your blocks are kinda frail. I think I’m gonna break your arm sometime.” Bokuto comments offhandedly, and Tsukishima’s irritation becomes apparent. “You can read, but you don’t have any power in your blocks!”    

“I’m still growing,” Tsukishima huffs, smirking at Bokuto. “My height and blocks are under development.”

Kuroo provokes him a little further. “If you keep saying stuff like that, chibi-chan’s gonna take all your glory.”

Instead of a snarky reply, Kuroo receives silence. After a few seconds of standing around awkwardly, Tsukishima gives him a resigned smile. “That can’t be helped, I guess. Hinata and I have a different level of talent.”

Nobody speaks, until Inuoka comes marching in and breaks the tension. “Are you guys practicing too? Can I join?” Yaku comes trailing in after him, his glance immediately shifting to Lev, lying in a pool of his own sweat.

“Oi, Lev! Stop rolling around and get up!”

“Geh, Yaku-san…”

Tsukishima exits the gymnasium without another word, brushing against Akaashi along the way. Akaashi knows Kuroo has prodded him in a place he probably shouldn’t have. Conflict is what he felt, swirling around his chest.

“I think you stepped on a mine there.”

They wrap up practice soon after. Akaashi grabs his towel while Bokuto and Kuroo whip each other with theirs, swordfighting with the towels like children. Akaashi isn’t sure if there will be no accidents during their bath time.

“Akaashi! Let’s get into the bath! You have nothing to be embarrassed about, we have a captain-setter relationship! And it’s a good one!”

Bokuto is already shirtless and flexing, and Kuroo is joining in on his antics. “Bro, you can totally make your pecs dance someday. Like that guy in the video I sent you.”

Akaashi throws off his clothes under his towel, folding them neatly and placing them in a neat pile. “Come on. You guys are going to catch a cold, if you continue to parade around half naked.”

“Parade around? How rude!” Kuroo scoffs in mock anger, stepping into the bathroom. Bokuto follows after him, this time parading around fully naked. Akaashi averts his gaze, sitting down on one of the shower chairs to wash himself.

Bokuto and Kuroo are splashing each other with the shower heads, aiming at each other’s faces. “My eyes!” Bokuto screeches, waddling around like a chicken with its head cut off. “My eyes! You have blinded me, scoundrel!”

“Silence, infidel!”

Bokuto collapses into Akaashi, who is shampooing himself while ignoring the commotion. “Aghaashi, Kuroo’s bullying me! Help!” Akaashi’s eyes start to sting from contact with Bokuto. He gently pushes Bokuto off him and scoops a bit of shampoo from his own hair, placing a dollop of it into Bokuto’s palms.

“En guarde, demon cat!”

Bokuto lets out a battle cry, slapping his soapy hands into Kuroo’s face. Kuroo lets out a strangled scream of agony, tears streaming down his face. “You- I actually hate you right now! My eyes are burning so bad!”

“You would have to hate me, then.” Akaashi shrugs, washing the suds off his skin. The hot water feels delicious against his back. “I’m the one who gave him the shampoo,” he admits, hopping into the tub before Kuroo can chuck a basin full of water at him.

Bokuto leaps into the tub after him, swimming around excitedly. “Ah, man. Sinking into the tub after practice is the best.” He lets out a pleased whine, running a hand through his flattened hair. Akaashi can’t help but to stare at the droplets running down his neck.

“Kuroo-san.” Akaashi wades through the water towards Kuroo, who has a face towel resting on his head. “Can I share something with you?”

“Well, is it food? Can I eat it?”

Akaashi rolls his eyes. “I’m bisexual. I figured it’s about time I tell you, too.”

“Oh, cool. I had a feeling. Thanks for coming out.” Kuroo pats Akaashi’s back, and Akaashi becomes visibly confused by how nonchalant he is. “You’re one of us.”

“Kuroo’s gay. And he has great gaydar.” Bokuto explains.

Akaashi nods with uncertainty. “I… see.” He had certainly not expected it, but the more he thought about it, it made sense. “It’s nice to have someone else I can talk to. I only knew about Bokuto.”

“Glasses guy is totally gay too.” Kuroo mentions casually, sinking neck-deep into the water. “Just you wait. I’ll prove myself right, because I’m always right.”

Akaashi raises an eyebrow. “And how are you so sure? What evidence do you have to back up your claim?”

Kuroo chuckles at Akaashi and raises his brows, earning a look of pure exasperation from him. “Gaydar,” he says smugly, tapping the middle of his forehead. Akaashi wonders if Kuroo would implant a microchip in his head, for that sole purpose.

Bokuto leans on the edge of the bathtub, his arms resting on either side. “Some people were being really nasty to Akaashi and spreading rumours about him. They’re horrible.”

“It’s no big deal. If I ignore it, the whole thing will eventually blow over.” Akaashi says, but he isn’t too sure. He doesn’t want to think about what might happen.

Kuroo squints at Bokuto, who is stuck in his own thought. He doesn’t realise Kuroo is staring at him until the bathroom falls silent. “What’s up?”

“Bokuto, what happened there?” Kuroo points to a bruise on his side, more noticeable with the soap washed off his skin. “That looks pretty painful.”

Kuroo splashes his way over to Bokuto, and Akaashi swallows. “That does seem like a nasty bruise, Bokuto-san.” He’s only noticed it now, because of its size. It’s a small purple bruise, resembling an indent that hadn’t faded.

“Oh, this? Bumped into a table.” Bokuto says hastily. Akaashi doesn’t buy it. Bokuto is averting his gaze, which is a telltale sign that he isn’t telling the full truth. Kuroo and Akaashi don’t add to that, prompting Bokuto to explain further. “I tripped in the kitchen.”

“There’s some on your back, Bokuto. You’re not getting hurt by someone, are you?” Kuroo asks him. Mist fills the air around them, heating up their faces.

Bokuto shakes his head, backing up against the side of the bath. “No one’s hurting me, Kuroo. I’m fine.” He laughs, with a strain in his voice. “I just keep bumping into things.”

“You can tell us, you know. Is everything all right at home?” Akaashi scoots closer to Bokuto, until their elbows touch. He knows Bokuto’s hiding something from him.

“Well, maybe not everything,” Bokuto admits, and Kuroo’s eyes widen. “My parents fight sometimes. I can’t do much about it, but I try to stop them. I don’t like seeing them angry at each other.”

Kuroo puts an arm around Bokuto’s shoulder. “That sounds real shitty. They don’t hurt you, do they?”

“No.” Bokuto mumbles. “They don’t do it on purpose. That doesn’t count, right?” His eyes are almost pleading, and Akaashi feels his heart crushing under the weight of Bokuto’s stare. “They still love me!”

Akaashi and Kuroo exchange glances. There’s something wrong with Bokuto’s life outside school, but he isn’t acknowledging it. “People who love you can still do bad things, Bokuto-san.”

“Like my mom. She was a good person and a horrible parent.” Kuroo mentions casually. “She used to yell too much and sometimes slap me. My parents separated when I was six, haven’t heard from her since.”

Bokuto’s eyes widen incredulously, and even Akaashi can’t hide his astonishment. “She hit you? That’s horrible, Kuroo! You couldn’t have done anything that bad, you were six!”

“If your parents hurt you, whether they do it on accident or on purpose, you’re entitled to a damn apology. No matter what kind of shit you did. The power dynamic is uneven by default.” Kuroo’s mouth doesn’t stop running. “You need to talk to someone about this.”

“They don’t hurt me, Kuroo. There’s nothing to talk about.” Bokuto sulks, slinking against Akaashi. He’s visibly distressed, and Akaashi feels compelled to rest his hand on his arm.

Bokuto is feeling disoriented, uncomfortable. Lost. Akaashi’s heart rate elevates as Bokuto’s surge of emotions crash into him like a bus. “We’ll drop this subject. What was that character on your new keyring called, Bokuto-san?”

Kuroo scowls at Akaashi when Bokuto isn’t looking, but Akaashi shakes his head solemnly. He knows nothing else will come out of the discussion, and Bokuto’s eyes are getting bleary.

“You mean Gudetama?” Bokuto mumbles. “He's cute, isn't he? I bought it a few days ago.” He laughs, and Kuroo plays along just to keep his mood lifted. Akaashi heaves a sigh of relief when Kuroo and Bokuto start bantering again.

“Oi, Akaashi.”

Kuroo beckons to him once they’re out of the bath and Bokuto’s sight.

“How long have you known about Bokuto’s situation? You’re smart, Akaashi. Why didn’t you step in?” Kuroo crosses his arms, chewing on his lip.

Akaashi pinches the bridge of his nose. “He wouldn’t tell me anything if I asked. It would have made matters worse if I tried to intervene, without knowing the extent of what was going on.”

Kuroo squints at him, but sighs in defeat. “Look. I know you’ve been having an awful time recently. But you’re his best friend. If he won’t open up to you, who else is he gonna talk to?”

“If I force him, he’ll be uncomfortable. What do you think is the best way to handle it, then?” Akaashi asks, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t like seeing him hurt either, Kuroo-san.”

“Getting hurt by your family fucking sucks. I don’t want him to go through the same shit I did, Akaashi. You gotta do something. Involve a grown-up. Whatever you need to do, do it.” Kuroo pleads, the glimmer in his eyes almost pitiful. “Please, Akaashi.”

Akaashi can only manage a sympathetic nod.

When Akaashi heads to the bedroom, he finds Bokuto already curled up inside his futon. He slips inside his covers, shuffling over to the Bokuto-shaped lump beside him.

“Bokuto-san, are you feeling all right?” Akaashi peels the covers off Bokuto’s face, and notices that he isn’t smiling. His eyes aren't red, and Akaashi knows he hasn’t been crying. But when Akaashi’s hand brushes against Bokuto’s shoulder, he immediately realises that Bokuto isn’t feeling better.

Bokuto reaches over to Akaashi, encircling his torso with his arms. His skin lays flat against Akaashi’s t-shirt, and he pressed his forehead against his chest muscles. “I want to stay like this for a little while.” He breathes into Akaashi, eyelids fluttering shut.

Akaashi winces. His entire body is weighed down with Bokuto’s insecurity, and he can tell that he’s upset about what happened earlier. Akaashi is filled with anger, directed at the people who hurt Bokuto to that point.

“Of course you can, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto snuggles into Akaashi, completely under his covers. He’s abandoned his own futon. “Akaashi,” his name comes out as a quiet whine, “I’m good enough, right?”

Akaashi’s eyes burn. “Yes.” he pats Bokuto’s back, like his mother used to do when he was an anxious child. “You’re good enough, Bokuto-san. You’re more than good enough.”

The next day, it’s as if their exchange never happened. Bokuto’s limbs are not tangled against him, and his arms are a little too empty. Akaashi will only admit to himself that he misses cuddling Bokuto.

“Get up, Akaashi. Rise and shine.” Sarukui nudges his cheek, and Akaashi gets ready to start the second day of training camp. It’ll be another day filled with exertion, sweat and Bokuto’s “Hey hey hey!” echoing in the humid gymnasium.

“I’m getting up,” Akaashi grumbles, stretching his arms out and knocking over someone’s phone. He needs to get changed first, and have breakfast. He hopes he can get a large portion of rice.

Practice is the same as yesterday. Bokuto is screaming with glee, and Karasuno gets the most of the penalty dashes. But just as Akaashi begins to get exhausted, an unexpected happiness catches him off guard.

“The parents of the Shinzen High students have brought watermelons!”

The managers hold out plates with watermelon slices piled on them, juicy and inviting. “Thanks.” Akaashi picks a slice and bites into it, sitting himself on the warm grass. As he chews on the fleshy fruit, he sees Bokuto chatting to Washio and Komi.

“Watch! I’ll spit this seed so far, it’ll reach the path!”

Bokuto makes obnoxious blowing noises, his mouth seemingly full of seeds. “I can’t even see where that went, Bokuto!” Komi guffaws, attempting to get his own seeds to fly across the grass.

“Bokuto, are you not going to eat that? It still has red bits left.” Washio points to Bokuto’s half-eaten watermelon slice, which is still reasonably red and eatable. Bokuto’s mouth is covered with watermelon bits, dripping onto his t-shirt.

“It doesn’t taste like anything anymore. I’m gonna chuck it out.” Bokuto shrugs. “It tastes like cucumbers now.”

Akaashi tosses him a small container of salt. “It’ll taste better if you sprinkle some salt on it. We shouldn’t waste the food offered to us.” Bokuto makes a face at him, but takes the salt from him and dumps it on his slice anyway.

“I guess it’s marginally better.” Bokuto eats the rest of the watermelon, until the red bits are almost gone. “Did I use that word correctly?”

Akaashi suppresses a giggle at Bokuto’s curious question. “Yes, you did. Quite impressive, Bokuto-san.”

“I’m your upperclassman, after all!”

Bokuto’s heart-warming laugh rings through the summer heat. Akaashi wishes it weren’t the last summer he would be spending with him.

When evening rolls around, Bokuto catches sight of Tsukishima, much to the latter’s annoyance. He grabs Tsukishima by the shoulders before Akaashi can stop him, intent on making him join practice with him.

“Hey hey, Tsukki, let’s practice!”

“No, thank you.” Tsukishima barely acknowledges Bokuto, making his way over to the gymnasium doors.

Bokuto pouts, showing the whites of his eyes. “Eeh? Boring!” He doesn’t hide his disappointment, but transfers his attention to Kuroo in a heartbeat. “Kuroo!”

Kuroo merely answers with a groan, resigning himself to his fate.

“I haven’t even said anything yet!”

Akaashi heads over to the crate of volleyballs, tossing the balls out two at a time. Kuroo silently offers to help, but it’s an excuse for him to sneak up beside Akaashi. “We need to make sure Bokuto’s all right. We’ll stick close to him as much as we can, sounds good?”

Akaashi hums in response. He hurls one of the balls in Bokuto’s direction, and Bokuto catches it. “Akaashi, Kuroo, come on! We don’t have all night!”

Akaashi and Kuroo exchange sheepish grins.

To their surprise, Tsukishima comes back into the third gym just as they start to wrap up practice. “I’d like to ask you guys something.” Akaashi senses something about him that’s different. He’s not the same Tsukishima that refused to practice with them.

“Sure thing!” Kuroo and Bokuto chant in unison. “We welcome your questions with open arms!”

“You guys are somewhat from powerhouse schools, right? You could go to nationals all right, but winning would be an entirely different story.”

“But not impossible!” Bokuto pipes up, indignant.

Tsukishima doesn’t roll his eyes, so Akaashi does it for him.

“How do you guys stay so passionate? Volleyball is just a club. They only thing you can do with it is write on your resume that you tried hard.”

Somehow, Bokuto and Kuroo find a way to derail the conversation by making a person’s name out of “Just a club”. Nobukatsu-kun this and that, Akaashi’s head spins. He can’t keep up with their strange antics, and decides to give up. “Just leave them to their own devices. No need to try and understand what they’re saying.”

“Hey, four-eyes!” Bokuto exclaims.

“It’s Tsukishima.”

“Yeah, Tsukishima-kun. Is volleyball fun to you?”

Tsukishima stares at him with a deadpan expression. “No, not particularly.”

“Well, maybe that’s because you suck!”

Tsukishima stiffens, but doesn’t say anything in his defense.

“I’ve been to nationals before, but I’ve only started to enjoy volleyball recently.” Bokuto starts to monologue proudly. “Ever since I used straight spikes, my cross spikes got stopped in matches. And that was frustrating as hell, so I practiced the hell out of my straight spikes!" 

“And the next time I faced off against that team in a match, the same blockers couldn’t touch my spike. That felt amazing, like, ‘My time has finally come!’” Bokuto laughs heartily.

“It’s whether you have a moment like that, or not.”

Akaashi remembers Bokuto’s moment that got him into volleyball. They had embraced on the court, not caring about how sweaty and exhausted they were. At that moment, the world consisted of only them. Bokuto was the star that outshone everything else Akaashi had ever seen.

“Forget about the future or your next match. The satisfaction of squashing your opponents right in front of you, and yanking out 120% of your potential is what matters the most!”

Tsukishima’s eyes widen, taken aback. Akaashi had anticipated one of Bokuto’s inspirational speeches. Despite not knowing what he’s doing and being a hot mess most of the time, Bokuto is one of Akaashi’s heroes. And he's sure he would become Tsukishima’s, too.

“If that moment comes to you, that’s the moment you’ll get hooked onto volleyball.”

Bokuto claps his hands, and his inspirational monologue comes to an end. “Okay, now that I’ve answered your question, you gotta block for us!” He adds, slinging an arm around Tsukishima.

“Now come on, we don’t have all night!” Kuroo locks his arm with Tsukishima’s, preventing him from escaping. Akaashi throws him a glance to wish him good luck.

That night, Bokuto is out like a light as soon as his head hits the pillow. He’s the first one to pass out, and Akaashi has full view of his face. He’s snoozing like a baby, drool glimmering on the corner of his mouth. He mumbles something unintelligible about Kuroo eating charred toast in his sleep.

Knowing that Bokuto is sleeping easy tonight, Akaashi can close his eyes and slip into his dreams in peace.

The third day is when it all starts to get tiring. Fukurodani gets four penalty runs, and Akaashi has stopped bothering to count Karasuno’s dashes. Sweat drips onto the gymnasium floor, players struggle to catch their breath. They cling to their water bottles like a drowning man with straws.

So he’s slightly taken aback when both Hinata and Tsukishima turn up to practice in the third gym.

“You have someone with you today, Tsukki?”

Tsukishima shook his head, grimacing at the newcomer. It’s Hinata, the short but enthusiastic spiker at Karasuno.

“Please let me join practice!” Two voices chant in unison, instead of one. The other one is Lev, who has presumably escaped Yaku’s receiving practices to do his own thing. He’s tall, energetic and hard to miss.

“Yaku is totally gonna kick your ass, Lev. You ran away, didn’t you?” Kuroo sees through Lev in an instant, and the strained expression and shoulder twitch Lev does confirms it.

Lev turns slightly blue. “He let me off early because I was competent!” Kuroo only laughs in response. It’s glaringly obvious that he made it up on the spot.

“Well, whatever. We have the right number. Let’s do a three-on-three.” Kuroo suggests, his hands on his hips. Lev and Hinata let out an excited screech, while Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “Let’s do something we don’t normally get to do.”

Akaashi isn’t opposed to Kuroo’s suggestion. In fact, he was looking forward to practicing with him and the first years. However, Kuroo had split them according to height. Whether it was on purpose or not, Akaashi’s team’s tallest member was shorter than the shortest member on the tall team.

“Um… This is horribly unbalanced, don’t you think?”

Kuroo grins lopsidedly. “You’re the only one who thinks that.” He nudges in the direction of Bokuto and Hinata with his chin. The hyper balls of energy are running around in circles, yelling with excitement.

Bokuto is in top form. He spikes past Tsukishima and Lev’s blocks, and doesn’t let Kuroo touch the ball. “Don’t jump too far to the sides!” Kuroo barks out as he picks himself off the ground.

Hinata is surprisingly easy to team up with. Akaashi knows he doesn’t have the abilities and precision Kageyama has, but it's just like setting to a smaller Bokuto.

“Bring it on! Hey hey hey!” Bokuto prepares for another spike, but the ball never flies into his palm. Akaashi has stopped in his tracks, his gaze shifted to Shirofuku and Suzumeda.

“If you guys don’t finish up soon, the canteen will close and you guys won’t have any dinner.” Shirofuku grins loosely, raising her brows.

Bokuto, Hinata and Lev let out loud gasps, screaming about missing out on food. “I guess we can’t go out to war on an empty stomach.” Kuroo shrugs, following them out of the gymnasium. “We’ll continue this tomorrow.”

It’s the captains’ meeting on night three. The team captains and their vice captains gather in one classroom to discuss penalties and precautions for the rest of the week. Bokuto is unsure on many details, but Akaashi has anticipated that and has everything covered. He prides himself on his ability to predict and prevent.

“So, please be wary of dehydration and take regular breaks during practice. Thank you.” Akaashi straightens his notes, closing his copybook filled with neat handwriting. “This is meant to be the captain’s job, originally,” he whispers to Bokuto.

But Bokuto has other priorities. “I brought a deck of cards! Let’s play old maid!” He opens up the pack, tossing out the cards to the others haphazardly.

“Sounds fun. I’m in,” Kuroo says, as if any of them have a choice. The way they’re sitting, Akaashi ends up being the one to take a card from Bokuto. A sole card sticks out above all of them, and there’s a glimmer in Bokuto’s golden eyes. He has the joker.

It’s too obvious. It doesn’t take an empath to put two and two together. Akaashi attempts to take a card from the edge, but it doesn’t budge. Bokuto is holding them down with sheer finger strength. Akaashi realises he isn’t been given a choice.

Akaashi heaves a sigh and takes the joker. It goes around in a circle until it’s Bokuto’s turn to take a card from Sugawara. “Eenie-meenie-miney mo…” Bokuto mutters obnoxiously, swiping one card after stalling way too much. “Gaaaaaah! No pairs!”

Akaashi and Sugawara end up being the last two. “It’s… this one.” Sugawara picks the seven of hearts, and leaps with joy soon after. Akaashi silently throws his loser’s token on the pile of disorganized cards. He’s lost. He can thank Bokuto for that one. “I guess we’ll wrap it up now. It’s getting late.”

His words are overshadowed by Bokuto’s. “Man, I’m so glad I didn’t come last! I can’t imagine losing old maid. It’s so embarrassing, I’d never be able to show my face in public again!!” He lets out a laugh, not even glancing in Akaashi’s direction.

If that’s the game Bokuto is going to play, Akaashi will gladly join. And win. His eyes sharpen.

“Now, shall we have another match?”

The next match, Bokuto makes pair after pair until there are only two cards left in his hand. “Whoa, look! I think I might win this one!” He announces proudly, and proceeds to make another pair after taking a card from Sugawara.

“I only have one card left!” Bokuto pushes his single card towards Akaashi, and his face falls all of a sudden. “Wait, does that mean this is the end for me, after you take my card?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san. Congratulations.”

Bokuto frowned, scrunching his face. “That’s so boring! I don’t like scoring twenty-four points with a service ace! If I don’t get a joker, there’s no thrill and excitement in this!”

 _Says the one who made him pick the joker,_ Akaashi thinks. “I’m sorry. Our captain is a bit, uh, childish.”

“All right!” Bokuto stands up, his chair clattering against the classroom floor. “Whoever loses this round has to massage my hips! You guys better appreciate it!”

Akaashi knows he has a battle he can’t afford to lose.

Akaashi is in trouble. He has the joker, and from the way he reacted, everyone else knows about that too. The others are putting on acts and little mindfucks that Akaashi stops bothering to analyse. It’s Kai’s turn to take from him, and he decides to mess it up a little.

He makes one card stick out in the middle, just like Bokuto did earlier. “Please, take this one. I can’t lose this round.” He pleads Kai, who is visibly shaken.

“Interesting! Interesting!” Kuroo chimes in from beside them, but Akaashi doesn’t care. He only needs to win.

“Mmm, how nice! It feels amazing! A little to the right!”

It’s Kai who is massaging Bokuto’s hips. Bokuto is sprawled out on the floor, letting Kai take over completely. Kai had ended up pulling Akaashi’s joker out of pity, which led to his loss. He doesn't seem annoyed about giving Bokuto a massage, and it doesn't look like it's his first time giving someone one.

“You’re really tense over here. How about this spot?”

As soon as Kai places more pressure in his fingers, Bokuto lets out a yelp. “What? Ow! Ow! _Oooooww!_ Oh my god, stop! Don’t do thaaaat!”

He screams at the unexpected pressure point, rolling around on the floor and letting out animalistic noises. Kai doesn’t bat an eye, and mumbles, “Would any of you guys also like a massage?”

Akaashi definitely learns a lesson. Never get on Kai’s bad side.

“I think I’ll leave now. I need to check up on the first and second years.” Sugawara says. “You gonna come with me, Daichi?”

“No. I’ll stick around for a little longer.”

And so begins a round four, a round five. Kai leaves once he comes out victorious, leaving the three captains in an intense battle of wits and deception. Akaashi sticks around to keep an eye on Bokuto, but passes out after a few more rounds. He snoozes on the floor, out cold.

“Alright! Let’s bet Akaashi’s soul on this game!”

Akaashi stirs. Bokuto is trying to bet him in a card game, while he’s meant to be fast asleep. He lets out a groan, curling in on himself on the classroom. He slips in and out of sleep, until he hears a faint scream and some footsteps.

Still, he doesn’t wake up fully until Bokuto shakes him gently. “Oi, Akaashi, wake up.”

“Ngh?” Akaashi lets out a choked snore, rubbing his eyes with his fists. “What was that, Bokuto-san?”

“Hinata kind of saw us playing and freaked out. I recall him screaming ‘Demon!’ and bolting the hell out of here.” Daichi explains, without a shred of fatigue in his voice. Akaashi snorts. They must have had their intimidating, volleyball-match aura surrounding them.

Bokuto picks Akaashi off the floor and squeezes under him, positioning himself into a semi-carry. “Let’s go. Gotta sleep for tomorrow!” He hoists Akaashi up, using his own back as his support.

“I‘m already sleeping,” Akaashi murmurs, letting Bokuto haul him to the Fukurodani bedroom. Bokuto is a warm radiator, glowing like all things nice. His heartbeat overlaps with his own, echoing inside his ribcage. Akaashi is fulfilled, wishing that their moment could be their eternity. Bokuto deserves nothing other than what he’s feeling right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The card thing is actually canon! It's in the light novel volume three. I love those dorks.  
> Until then!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment to tell me what you think~! It would mean a heck of a lot to me, and I'll love you forever!


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